Love's Labour's
by Katrinea
Summary: AU fic. 'If Sosuke Aizen had known anything of the events that were due to unfold with the beginning of the new term, he would've resigned in an instant.' teacher!Aizen x student!Ichigo. Even with the inescapable force pulling the two men together, can either survive when the past catches up with them?
1. New Dawn, New Day, New Life

_If Aizen __Sosuke __had known anything of the events that were due to unfold with the beginning of the new term, he would've resigned in an instant. His pride being as it was, he would rather have left with his air of mystery and superiority intact and immigrated to the furthest country he could reach, perhaps start his retirement early, settle down in a new city, perhaps one by the sea, and spend his days in that bubble of peaceful serenity that he was so accustomed too. _

_As it was, even for a human being as intelligent as Aizen, he could not possibly have predicted the future, and so could not have seen the whirlwind that was approaching on the horizon, in the form of a certain redheaded teen who was going waltz into his life and turn everything upside down._

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As the blaring sound of Ichigo's alarm clock wrenched him from a comfortable sleep, his first instinct was to thrown the damn thing against the wall. However before he could do such a thing, his body tensed and moved almost unconsciously to throw him from the bed, narrowly avoid his father's morning flying kick.

"GOOD MORNING ICHIGOOO!" Isshin cried joyfully as he sailed through the air, crashing unceremoniously onto Ichigo's bed. Ichigo flipped himself up off of the floor, twisting his body into a defensive position before delivering a powerful kick to his father's head.

"Goddamn it old man! I'm eighteen already, you've got to cut this crap out!" he yelled as his father crashed onto the floor, a look of sheer adoration painting his bruised face as he beamed up at his son.

"Oh but you'll always be a child to me." He sniffed, "I'm so proud of you, come give your father a hug!" he jumped enthusiastically towards Ichigo, who simply sidestepped and watched as Isshin crashed into his door, falling through to land on his face in the hallway.

"And stay out!" Ichigo shouted, slamming his bedroom door with enough force to make the plaque on the front of it fall off.

"Honestly…" he muttered, turning to survey the damage left by his insane father. Was it too much to ask that on his first day of college his father managed to exercise some self-control? At this rate he'd be late, and he really didn't want to start off that way. Now that he was a college student he was putting the past behind him, no more of this high school nonsense, no more late coming, no more school yard fights and half arsed homework. This year he was going to make things right, do things proper and make his departed mother proud.

He pulled on some inconspicuous faded grey jeans and a plain black t-shirt, silently thankful that he no longer had to wear a school uniform, those things were uncomfortable and nauseating, tight in all the wrong places and depressingly grey in colour. Now he could wear what he wanted. He glared at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand through his ever messy hair in an attempt to procure some order amongst the orange strands. Failing, he made a face into the mirror, wrinkling his brow into his ever present frown.

"Ichigoo!" he heard the crystal voice of Yuzu calling from downstairs, "Breakfast is ready!" With one last glare into the mirror Ichigo headed down to join his family for breakfast.

Ever constant, the breakfast routine was as usual; separating the burnt toast from the barely scorched, the typical fight over the last egg, Isshin getting overexcited at something, knocking his mug of tea over his food and wailing over the soggy toast… Ichigo smiled and frowned and laughed and berated his ridiculous father along with his sisters, but there was no real heart in his actions. It was the same old stuff, just on a different day. At least in the summer the routine was broken, but now the term had begun everything felt the same again. He only hoped that college would be something different from the red brick monotony of high school.

A glance at the clock told him that it was time to move out, and so he tugged on his jacket, grabbed his worn out shoulder bag and headed for the door, dodging his father's surprise attacks and stopping to hug his little sisters goodbye. Not that he could call them little anymore, both now fourteen years of age and growing taller by the day.

Stepping out into the street, the sunlight hitting his eyes made him squint and throw up a hand to shield his eyes. Squinting down the street he made a quick check for spirit life forms, something that he did constantly nowadays. They seemed to be getting more numerous lately, he could barely go a day without seeing one now. Thankfully the street seemed to be clear today and he set off in the direction of his new prison.

College. It was strange, Ichigo had never really given it much thought before he left school. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to go there, to spend another four years stuck in a soul sucking place like that. It wasn't that he was a bad student, the opposite actually. It was more his problem with authority figures and the claustrophobic atmosphere of the classrooms that irritated him. Most teachers automatically treated him like a delinquent anyhow, his unnatural hair colour, ever constant frown and frequent injuries sustained from fighting didn't exactly make him look like student of the year. But yet here he was, willingly on his way to 'Karakura College'. Inventively named it was not, but from what he had seen it didn't look too bad, and he was going to be studying his favourite subject – English Studies. To what end he was as of yet unsure, perhaps he'd become an English teacher himself one day? Now there was a laughable thought.

"Ichigo! Over here." He tore his eyes away from the ground to narrow his eyes against the sun and glance up ahead of him. There stood Tatsuki and Keigo gesturing for him to come and walk with them. He obliged, thankful that at least he would be going to his new hell along with his friends, surely they could make anything bearable? A rare smile graced Ichigo's face as he caught up with them, automatically punching a wailing Keigo to the ground as he leapt at Ichigo, arms outstretched in hope of a hug.

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Aizen Sosuke leaned back in his chair, breathing in the musky smells of the classroom. It smelt best this way he thought, when the college had been closed for the summer and only the scent of chalk dust and books hung in the air. Shortly the classroom would be flooded with students, bringing with them a cacophony of smells; sweat and food and perfumes and aftershaves and toothpaste, smells that lingered in the desks and mingled with the hot sun to create an entirely different, human kind of smell. As it was at the moment, the scent of the room was like a clean slate, waiting for a story to be imprinted upon it.

Aizen was head of the English Studies department at the college, and he took great pride in his job. He made sure that his department ran like well-oiled machinery, with consistently excellent results both academically and socially, unlike the Art & Design department down the hall from him, though it was not surprising considering that their head was the famed slacker, Kyoraku Shunsui. And then there was that glorified gym teacher Kenpachi Zaraki over at Athletic Studies. Not to mention that ditz of a woman, Rangiku Matsumoto, how someone like _her_ ever qualified as a Japanese teacher Aizen could never guess.

Aizen ran his fingers along the edge of his polished desk, wiping away a speck of dust that had dared to land upon his well-organised workspace before retrieving his well-read copy of Shakespeare's _'Othello' _ from the desk drawer and flicking through it to aimlessly pass the time before the college day began.

'_Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,  
But I do love thee; and when I love thee not,  
Chaos is come again.'_

Aizen smirked a little as he read these words; Shakespeare did always write love as such a majestic thing, though Aizen knew the reality to be much darker than his beautiful words.

His thoughts were interrupted by the first students arriving; he glanced up from his book to lock eyes with a familiar face. A tall, sturdy man with long red hair that flowed all the way down his back, every bit of his exposed skin adorned with ornate black tribal tattoos. Renji Abarai, back to repeat his first year. Oh joy.

"Alright Aizen-sensei!" he quipped, meeting the teacher's brown eyes with a wink. "Bet you're glad to see me back eh?"

"Not particularly… In fact I'd be glad to see the back of you. Mind explaining to me how you managed to miss your final exam?" Aizen asked, not really expecting a sufficient answer. And he was right not to as Renji answered,

"Ah well, something came up. You know how it is, what with me having a life outside this class and all." The redhead chuckled, "C'mon admit it, you missed me right? Wasn't your summer just so empty without me there as a punching bag for your abusive tendencies?" he joked.

Aizen massaged his temples; he hadn't yet had enough coffee to deal with this. He decided to rectify that problem immediately, and once he'd thrown Renji a comment about how he always had so many injuries that he must think himself a literal punching bag, Aizen rose from his desk and strode over to the teachers' lounge for more coffee.

"Hey Ichigo!" Upon Aizen's return he heard the exuberant voice of Abarai rising far above the noise of the other students_. _

'_Great_,' Aizen thought_, 'more of Renji's delinquent friends have come to join the class, just what I need this year.' _As he pushed open the door to take in his first glance of the new class, he immediately spotted Renji and the boy that he had been shouting at. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed that Renji had been shouting at his friend from only a few feet away, and that the orange haired teen was scowling at the redheaded idiot with his hands clamped over his ears.

All eyes turned to Aizen as he entered and silence descended across the room, everywhere expect from the corner where Renji sat, already surrounded by a little gang of first years.

"Fucking hell Renji, there's no need to shout like that, I can hear you from here perfectly well you moron." The frowning boy snapped, unaware that the noise level had dropped suddenly and his voice was projected loudly all across the room. Renji found this hilarious, bursting into fits of laughter as Ichigo realised his mistake and turned to face his new teacher, cheeks flushing slightly as blood rushed to flood them with colour.

Aizen said nothing, class wasn't due to start for another ten minutes anyway. He met the boy's glance, catching his eyes for a moment longer than he had intended to. There was something in him, some kind of force or fire that caught the older man's eye, it was something that he didn't see every day. Ichigo broke the gaze, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in the presence of this man. He flopped down next to Renji, scowling at him as he laughed still before thumping him over the head with his books. Aizen watched them fight as he sat down again at his desk, aware that every student was staring at him with quizzical expressions, all except those two in the corner. He briefly wondered how it was that Renji knew this boy, before dismissing the thought. What did it matter anyway? He was just another student, another empty cup here to be filled with the knowledge that he would impart, before moving on, leaving to the real world to fight and flourish or fail and wither.

Aizen sat back in his chair, his coffee cup in his hands and watched the clock tick away the minutes left till nine o'clock. He always liked to start punctual, not early nor late. In the corner Ichigo and Renji bickered still, drawing the attention of the surrounding students away from their silent teacher and towards them. They certainly looked a strange lot this year, one boy sitting to the right of Renji had bright blue hair and eyes, and when he smiled his lips drew back in an almost feral grin to reveal sharp looking teeth. A girl with long green hair flowing out from beneath a hat and with a pink scar across her face sat whispering to a tall, skeletal looking boy wearing (could he believe it?) an eyepatch. There was a dark haired, eyeliner wearing boy with skin so pale it looked unreal, and another with scars and a tattooed '69' on his face who was bothering a blonde haired boy with a fringe that concealed most of his face. Perhaps the strangest was a brunette who seemed to be fast asleep slumped over his desk. If Aizen had thought Renji looked strange with his full body tattoos, he was completely perplexed by this lot.

His eyes were once again drawn to the boy that Renji had been shouting at. He had called him Ichigo.

'_Strawberry.' _Aizen thought to himself and smiled a little. The boy certainly was unusual looking, though not more so than the rest of his classmates. His hair colour was very rare, though it seemed to be natural, and he appeared to carry himself with a certain air of dignity and wholesomeness, something that was rare amongst men of his age.

The clock made its final rotation, and as the hands approached the nine Aizen stood up from his seat and called for quiet as he picked up a piece of chalk and began to write on the board.

"Welcome to Karakura College, if you are not here for English Studies then you are in the wrong classroom." He spoke succinctly as he chalked words upon the board, "I will be your tutor for this term, my name is Aizen Sosuke; you may refer to me as Aizen-sensei or simply 'Sir'. I am Head of this department and so I do not tolerate misbehaviour in my classroom. Take my subject seriously and you'll do just fine, and if you don't, well you'll end up like Abarai-kun over there in the corner." He gestured towards the grinning redhead who seemed unaware that he had just been insulted.

Ichigo smirked a little at Renji's idiocy, if the guy wasn't such a great fighter he'd have nothing going for him. But Renji's humiliation was only a secondary thought, ever since the man had started speaking Ichigo had been studying him intently. He didn't seem to be anything like how Ichigo had imagined him from Renji's description. Aizen was tall, well-built and young for a teacher, Ichigo estimated him to be in his late twenties, early thirties at the most. He had dark chestnut hair swept back from his face, leaving only a few strands falling over his forehead and curling round his ears. His eyes were dark brown to match his hair and partly hidden behind thin reading glasses which gave him a certain dignified air. He didn't dress anything like a teacher either, wearing tight-fitting black jeans and a white shirt with a red tie done up loosely. And here Ichigo had imagined that all male teachers dressed entirely in tweed.

Ichigo glanced back at Aizen's face and was embarrassed to discover that the man had been staring at him. Had he seen Ichigo looking at him? Did it look like he was checking him out?

'_Great, well it's been a fucking brilliant start to the year so far.'_ Ichigo huffed, tearing his gaze away from the older man's in favour of staring out of the window. Aizen started to outline the curriculum of the course, and Ichigo heard the chalk squeak as he drew diagrams upon the board. Ichigo tuned out for a moment, letting his thoughts drift as he stared out of the window across the sports fields where keen students were already running helter skelter up and down the tracks. He was pondering how it would feel to be a different life form when his reverie was broken by a voice cutting into his thoughts.

"Kurosaki Ichigo?" he blinked at the man who had spoken, opening and shutting his mouth for a moment as he tried to work out why he was being called upon. As he took in the sight of his teacher standing with a clipboard in his hands he realised that Aizen was doing the roll call.

"Oh, I'm here…" he mumbled, aware that he was making himself look like an idiot for the third time today, and he'd only been here twenty minutes.

"Well thank goodness for that, thought we'd lost you for a minute there." Aizen smirked, his upper lip curling in what could almost be described as a smile. Ichigo scowled at him, feeling the heat of a blush creep into his cheeks as he bit back the retort that had formed on his tongue. Aizen noticed this action, he saw the way the boy itched to start an argument with him and he wasn't entirely pleased when Ichigo squashed the urge. Most of his students were at least a little bit scared of him, except Renji but he was too dense to know any better. But this one was intelligent, Aizen could tell, and he was bold too. Often a dangerous combination, but always an interesting one.

Perhaps this year would be more eventful that he had expected.

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_A/N: Well this is my very first AU fic. Reviews would be much appreciated since I've never done one of these before._

_And yes, there will be a lot of Shakespeare and other literary references, (I'm an English lit. student myself :3)_

_First person to guess the identity of all the other students described gets a pat on the head :D  
_


	2. Trying To Prevent What's Already Begun

****"Argh, I just don't get it!" Renji groaned, throwing his pen back down upon the desk for the third time in the last five minutes. Aizen sighed; he could feel another headache coming on. Renji was seriously getting on his nerves, they were only two weeks into the term and Aizen was already plotting the redhead's imminent homicide.

It was _difficult_ being around someone like Renji. In his defiant and idiotic ways he stirred up the old blood in Aizen, reminded him of how he used to be and made him just itch to snap and recreate the glory days. But no, he knew now that they were not days of glory, and he was no longer that same man. He was Aizen Sousuke, English tutor and all his sadistic tendencies were now inflicted through the wonderful medium of teaching.

"Hey, hey, Ichigo." Renji attempted to whisper to the redhead sitting next to him, prodding him with his pencil as he bothered him for help. Aizen took immense pleasure in the strangled noise that Renji made as the smaller man reached out and snapped his pencil effortlessly between his fingers. "What'd you do that for!" Renji demanded, jabbing Ichigo in the side with his fingers. The orange haired boy hissed in pain, twisting his head round to glare at his redheaded friend in annoyance.

Aizen sighed silently as he watched the two bicker, something that was becoming a too frequent occurrence in his classroom. He was used to dealing with Renji but this new boy was somewhat of a mystery. At first he'd thought him to be just another delinquent, one of Renji's no good gang but there was something different about him, something delicate and hidden just below the surface. The kid was no genius either but he was exactly an idiot. He tried hard with the work and so far hadn't missed a deadline; the stuff he produced was usually average, sometimes verging on brilliant. He was just a typical student really.

But why couldn't Aizen stop himself from staring at him?

It was irritating; even now he felt annoyance bubbling in his chest as he failed to tear his eyes from the orange haired boy. Academically speaking Ichigo wasn't anything special, and he'd barely spoken to him thus far, so what was this effect that the boy seemed to be having on him? He clenched his fist, his emotions were something that he'd had to learn to control and he could not afford to fall victim to them now. His first instinct was to hurt the boy, humiliate him so that he would become humbled and no longer hold the power to draw his teacher's eyes and thoughts to him. Relaxing his fists, he smiled as he remembered that he could do just that because he was a teacher and he had that power.

He knew there was a reason he loved this job.

"Why don't you stop being such an idiot, I'm trying to work here - hey! Give me back my pencil!" Ichigo snapped as his argument with Renji threatened to become physical. His blood was starting to boil; it was at times like these that he couldn't deal with his friend. All Ichigo wanted to do was keep his head down and get on with his work but _nooo_ Renji had to be there right beside him messing with him constantly and trying to drag him down. Gritting his teeth against the rage rising in his throat he was about ready to punch Renji in the face but his rising urge to do so was suppressed by a firm hand gripping his shoulder.

"Kurosaki-kun… Abarai-kun… Perhaps you'd care to sort out your relationship issues after class. How does detention sound?" Ichigo blushed red as he heard the silky voice of their teacher emanating from close quarters. He turned his head to meet the stoic gaze of Aizen, standing between the two boys with a hand on the shoulder of each, quiet sadism concealed in his brown eyes. The hand on Ichigo's shoulder was warm, and the heat radiating from his teacher's palm sent little sparks of heat shooting along his arms. Aizen smirked as Ichigo's blush deepened. That'd teach the boy to get under his skin like that.

"Whaat? But I've already got detention all week!" Renji complained, shaking the hand from his shoulder and unlike Ichigo showing no ill effects from the touch.

"Pity… Looks like I'll just have to add another day on to your already comprehensive list." Aizen smirked a little before his expression turned serious. "And **no** complaining this time Abarai, or I'll make sure you'll be in detention till you're in dentures."

'Yessir.' Renji mumbled, raising a tattooed eyebrow but knowing better than to argue with his teacher when he was in this sort of mood. Ichigo however had different ideas; he was annoyed at his friend and at the reaction that the touch of Aizen's hand had caused in him, now that the strange heat that had crept over his body at the older man's touch had dissipated his confusion turned to anger.

"Why do I have to get punished for his idiocy?" he demanded, wrinkling his brow and scowling, "I was just trying to get on with my work!"

Aizen scowled, normally he relished a good argument but today he was caffeine deprived and crankier than usual.

"You rose to Abarai's attempts to irritate you, and you exacerbated the situation by breaking his pencil." He spoke in a low, dangerous tone now, all attempts at playfulness abandoned. "I expect this nonsense from Abarai but not from you Kurosaki, so perhaps a more severe punishment is required…" Aizen placed his hands on Ichigo's desk and lent in close enough to him that he could just catch the boy's scent, a mixture of grass and aftershave, as he spoke again. "You will have a special detention here with me after classes today."

"Wha-!" Ichigo opened his mouth to complain again but was cut off as the lunch bell cut through the anticipation hanging in the air of the classroom. Aizen smirked as he rose from the desk, turning to dismiss the class with a wave of his hand before grabbing his coat, making a swift exit before Ichigo could begin to find the words to retort.

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"Aaargh, I can't stand that guy!" Ichigo complained, his frown deepening as he sprawled backward on the gravely surface of the rooftop where he sat along with his friends. "He's really got it in for me for some reason."

"Hah," Grimmjow laughed, blowing cigarette smoke towards the redhead, "It's cause you sit with Renji, it's him he really hates." Ichigo coughed and waved his hand in the air to dissolve the smoke as he scowled. Renji laughed,

"Sorry Ichi, it's just too much fun messing with the both of yous."

"Whatever, now thanks to you I have to go to detention with that guy!" Ichigo growled, running his hands through his hair to get it away from his eyes.

"Yea but man, what'd you think he'll make you do?" Hisagi queried, "I mean, underneath that serious mask he's pretty sadistic."

"You reckon?" Kira asked, shooting a glance at his friend from beneath his curtain of blonde hair.

"Yea, I mean you only have to look at the amount of work he's been giving us to figure it out, he's pretty twisted." Hisagi sounded almost disinterested as he tuned the strings of his guitar.

"Yea he'll probably make you suck him off" Grimmjow snorted at the reaction he got from this comment; Ichigo looked like someone had just been sick on him; Kira choked a little on his juice and the strings of Hisagi's guitar made a strangled noise; Renji burst out laughing and Starrk opened one eye as he gave a snort of amusement and revulsion before resuming his impression of a dead body. Ulquiorra blinked, which was a pretty big reaction coming from him

"Oh man, that's gross!" Renji exclaimed, "I don't wanna have that image!"

"I think you're wrong Shūhei, Grimm's the one that's seriously twisted." Ichigo retorted as he glared at the blue haired man. Grimmjow just laughed and took another drag of his cigarette before speaking.

"Naaah, I mean, I've seen the way he looks at you, and it's almost predatory. Take it from me man, I know the feeling." He winked at Ichigo who felt more than a little uncomfortable now.

"Alright, let's just take a reality check here guys; he's a teacher, not some sort of creeping pervert." Ichigo cut into the disgusted exclamations from the group, hoping to change the subject somehow. "He's probably not even gay."

"Aww, sound a little disappointed there Ichi?" Renji joined in the teasing now, smirking that stupid wide grin of his.

"Fuck off." Ichigo snapped. His sexuality was not something that he felt comfortable being probed about, especially not in front of Grimmjow, who didn't seem too picky about what sex his partner was. Ichigo couldn't deny that he found his teacher attractive, but besides from that he didn't particularly like him. He just seemed so cold, so emotionless. And Grimmjow was right, he did have a tendency to stare at Ichigo, he'd noticed it a few times now and each time he was shocked by the lack of emotion displayed in those cold eyes. He was unfathomable, and that didn't sit well with Ichigo. He liked people to be clear cut, like Renji who was clearly an idiot, and Grimmjow who was clearly a wicked pervert.

"And man if it wasn't for that eyepatch guy I'd totally be in with Nel. Have you _seen_ her? Fucking gorgeous body, and a face to match. And God, those breasts!" The wicked pervert was currently that going off on one about his latest would-be conquest. He had a new one each week it seemed. Ichigo sighed, he just couldn't understand that kind of mentality, wanting someone new all the time, having the brief physical rush of sexual contact before packing up and moving on to the next. Not that he'd ever had any trouble finding potential partners, but he just wasn't a one night stand kind of guy.

"Jesus Grimm, do you ever think about anything else?" he snapped, "Some of us don't want to hear that shit."

"Oooh sorry Ichi." He teased, "Would you rather I told you about that guy I had the other night?"

"Fuck you." Ichigo snapped. The blue haired boy gave him a wink and flicked his cigarette end at the redhead,

"You wish ya fag." He teased, watching Ichigo clench his fists a little, it wouldn't be the first time they'd knocked chunks out of each other – the boy was just too much fun to wind up.

"Oh will you two stop it?" The pale boy spoke for the first time in hours, and despite the lack of emotion in his quiet voice they both stopped in their tracks. They both knew from experience that the quiet and reserved Ulquiorra was terrifying when he got angry and neither had the desire to be on the receiving end of his cold wrath.

"Tch, how bout we finish this later eh Ichi?" Grimmjow goaded as he licked his lips, "Maybe in yer bedroom?"

Ichigo stormed off after delivering a swift punch to the blue haired idiot's jaw, leaving the others remembering that Ichigo could also be terrifying when he was angry.

**

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**

By the time the end of the college day arrived, Ichigo had already worked himself up into somewhat of a frenzy, the knot in his stomach tightening as he watched the other captives file out of the room, wishing that he was amongst them. He caught Renji's eye as the redhead stood to leave, looking not the least bit guilty as he threw a wink at Ichigo, leaving with the others to go to the normal detention where all the offenders were lumped together in a room to sit and study under the watchful eye of whichever unlucky teacher had ended up on supervision duty that day. Oh what Ichigo would give to be going along to that stuffy little prison of a room with his friend, it seemed preferable to being here with Aizen.

Alone.

'_Why are you so worried?'_ he asked himself, _'He's just an unpleasant teacher, he's not actually going to torture you or…'_ he remembered Hisagi's words and Grimmjow's joke and shuddered. _'What a ridiculous idea.'_ he thought.

"Well, get it out then." Ichigo paled as he turned wide eyes upwards to meet with those of his teacher. How long had he been standing there, watching Ichigo squirm? And what did he just say?

"W-what?" he choked out.

"Your notebook, Kurosaki." Aizen smirked, delighted at the reaction that his words had caused. The boy had paled and almost fallen from his seat, brown eyes going as wide as dinner plates as they regarded him in frightened awe from beneath bright eyebrows. No doubt about it, the kid had a thing for him and from the dumbstruck look on his face it seemed he didn't even realise it.

'_This could be fun.'_

"Oh." Ichigo blushed now, his colour returning as his body relaxed after its 'fight or flight' moment. Aizen turned to walk back to his desk, and even without looking he could feel Ichigo's eyes on him. He walked deliberately slowly, moving his hips from side to side in a way that was sensual but not entirely feminine and Ichigo couldn't help but notice the way his rear swayed as he moved. He blushed even harder when he realised that he'd just been checking out his teachers butt, and immediately tried to hide his embarrassment by devoting all of his attention to searching franticly through his bag for his notebook.

Aizen lifted a piece of paper from his desk and it only took a glance at Ichigo to see that the boy had been noticed his efforts. He smirked at the crimson blush that deepened in his cheeks as he returned to stand in front of the boy's desk. He threw the paper down in front of him.

"Translate and analyse this short poem." He commanded. Ichigo studied the paper intently in order to avoid looking at his teacher. It was 'Do not stand at my grave and weep' by Mary Frye, a very famous English poem. Ichigo's spirits lifted a little, this would be a figurative piece of cake, he'd already read this poem and it was fairly easy to analyse, simple rhyming couplets interlaced with religious and spiritual imagery, a popular funeral poem. He'd be done in no time.

Aizen collapsed on his chair, the orange headed boy already frantically scribbling away at his desk and now that said teen's eyes were no longer fixated on his body he was bored. He removed his glasses to rub at his eyes before setting them down on the desk in front of him with a soft click. Leaning back in his chair he closed his eyes and hummed a tune under his breath.

Ichigo glanced up from his writing to see his teacher lounging at his desk, humming and tapping his fingers against the wooden surface in a very distracting manner.

"Do you mind?" he snapped, he was getting tired of this guy's nonsense.

"No, not particularly." Aizen gave an amused glance at the scowl directed at him from beneath orange brows. "Stop scowling and concentrate on your work Kurosaki-kun."

The scowl deepened and the boy let out a noise of indignation like a little hiss.

'_How adorable.'_ thought Aizen before mentally smacking himself. Where had that thought come from? Never mind that it had immediately been followed by another that wondered what other types of noises would spill from the teen's lips, given the correct stimulation and application of pressure. He cursed under this breath, digging his fingers into his temples. _'Don't even think about something like that.' _He chastised himself _'Ridiculous, one pretty little kid gets all hot and bothered when I talk to him and suddenly I'm a hormonal teenager again.'_

No, not Aizen Sousuke, thank you very much. Returning his glasses to his face, he busied himself with idly picking through one of the many stacks of papers that required marking. He was going to be busy tonight; really, from the way some of these kids scrawled they could still be in kindergarten. He stopped when he came across Ichigo's paper; in contrast to the rest it was almost pristine. Unfolded and free of dirty fingermarks, the boy's handwriting was almost as neat and tidy as his own meticulously printed writing. The content wasn't too shabby either; give him a good few years and a hell of a lot more experience as the kid could be a ruddy Shakespeare himself.

"I'm done." Aizen glanced up from his scribbling upon the paper to peer at Ichigo over the top of his glasses. Big mistake. The sunlight was streaming in through the half closed blinds, forming bright pinpricks of light along the side of the boy's face, rays landing upon him to light up his hair and eyes, the brightness of orange and brown made even Aizen stop in his thoughts for a moment.

Ichigo shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, there it was again, that stare. The momentary spell was broken as he shook off the beams to instead fall upon the desk and wall. He sighed, slumping back in his chair.

"So can I go now?" he asked, a tone of annoyance clearly present in his voice.

"So eager Kurosaki." Aizen replied, the slight undercurrent of seductiveness in his voice made the boy shiver unconsciously as the teacher rose from his desk, deliberately stretching a little and rubbing at his neck to show off defined muscles. He made his way over to Ichigo's desk, the click of each approaching footstep sending off a burst of expectation and fear that seemed to have no cause inside of Ichigo's veins. He took the paper from the boy without making eye contact, giving it a quick glance over before discarding it back down upon the desk.

"I said analyse, not regurgitate. A five year old could've written this." He smirked, hoping to provoke the boy. Actually the essay was just fine, but the kid had only been here fifteen minutes, and what could he say? He wanted to have some more fun. No-one messed with him and got away unscathed. He didn't know how the damn kid was doing it but somehow he had gotten under his skin and Aizen's sadistic streak demanded for him to be punished him for it.

"What? I did your freaking analysis!" Ichigo protested, wrinkling his face into that ubiquitous frown as he tapped the paper with his pencil. "You didn't even read it properly, what the hell do they pay you for here?"

"When I ask for an analysis I expect at least a page and a half, you've only written half a page." Aizen retorted, his calm outer appearance masking the feelings igniting inside of him. "Third of the way there already Kurosaki-kun, you'll be done in no time."

"Ever heard of quality over quantity?" the redhead scowled, anger and annoyance rising in his throat.

"You're not that good Kurosaki." The older man smirked; delighted at the reaction he was getting from the teen.

"And what the hell would you know about that?" he knew that speaking to his teacher like that would probably only gain him more detention but right then Ichigo didn't care. He decided right then that he hated the man, no teacher had ever been able to intimidate him like that, no teacher had ever made him so irritated and angry for no apparent reason and he had no idea how the brunette was able to elicit such a response from him, the confusion was making his head spin a little.

He realised that he may have crossed a line when he saw Aizen's expression darken, all trace of joviality dissipating as he placed his hands on the desk to lean in uncomfortably close to the boy, close enough that their noses were only a few inches apart. He spoke then, deliberately trying to overwhelm the boy with the dangerously seductive tone in his voice.

"You do not speak to me that way Ichigo." Little sparks of thrill shot up Ichigo's spine as his name slipped from those lips. "Show some respect."

Ichigo gulped, he was blushing more furiously than ever now and he could feel a tightness in his chest - what was wrong with him? It must be what Grimmjow said earlier, the blue haired bastard had a way of getting under his skin and now all he wanted was for his teacher to close the remaining distance between them and seize his lips in a bruising and possessive kiss. This thought took a moment to fully register, and when it did Ichigo balked. Horror crossed his face and Aizen smirked,

'_Too easy.'_ he thought, trying to dismiss the similar thoughts that had at that moment crossed his own mind, trying not to think how the boy would gasp if he just leaned in further and tangled his strong hands in that shock of orange hair, how pretty those lips would look after he had ravaged them with his own.

They stood like that for a moment, both wrestling their own thoughts with no clue of what the other was thinking. Aizen was the one to break the standoff, drawing back and exhaling softly to ease the tension. He had hoped to relieve the strange feelings that the boy had instilled in him but by trying to do so he had only seemed to worsen the situation. He watched Ichigo let out a breath that he had unconsciously been holding and now felt only more irritated.

"Go home Kurosaki." He sighed, rubbing his forehead

"But, the essay?" the redhead gaped, more than a little confused by the sudden change in attitude.

"It's fine. Go." Aizen's tone left no room for argument, and Ichigo realised this as he packed up his books and left in a hurry, too flushed to look his teacher in the eyes. Aizen refused to watch as the boy practically ran from the room, trying and failing to divert his attention fully to the papers he needed to mark. His concentration was gone along with the orange haired teen and for the first time since he'd started his job as a teacher he just couldn't bring himself to do any work.

In his old life, Aizen was used to getting whatever he wanted, being in the position that he was in, he was wanted by many and resisted by few, and whoever he wanted, he always got. It wasn't even difficult, most of the time it was a simple matter of seeing something or someone that he wanted and taking it, another habit that he'd had to quash with his 'career change'. Not that he'd seen anyone really worth having for a while, the urge seemed to have died with his old self – even the late night trysts with his silver haired fox had become bland, and so fewer and further between until he hadn't been persuaded into taking him for many months now, much to the chagrin of the man himself.

But now it seemed foolish to deny that he had found someone he wanted, the boy with his smart mouth and bold attitude, not to mention his startlingly beautiful appearance. And those old habits were threatening to resurface, being so near the boy made him just want to reach out and touch him and take him there. This was going to be a problem. No longer would he take what would not be willingly given, and heck, even if the boy was willing and able it still could never happen. Never mind the fact that he was the boy's teacher, he was so young and if he got caught up in the tangled mess of Aizen's past it would destroy him. As a teacher there were certain lines that should never be crossed, and Aizen knew that this was the most dangerous of all.

Throwing his pen down in frustration, Aizen began to pack up his bag, he'd never get any work done here at this rate, in this place in which he swore the scent of the boy still lingered, a constant reminder of the source of his frustration.

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_A/N: __Pats on heads all round for all the first chapter reviews. Thanks guys, all the positive feedback has been really encouraging! Keep em coming eh? :3_


	3. When The Tide Comes I'd Take You Away

Ichigo stood back on the slippery tiles and let the warm water cascade over his shoulders, damping and darkening his orange locks and squashing his spikey hair flat against his head beneath the liquid flow. He ran his hands through his hair as he tried to process what had happened a few hours before, when he was alone in the classroom with his teacher. He'd never experienced such a slew of emotion, anger and confusion and _heat _burning throughout his body.

Something must surely be wrong with him, to be thinking this way without being able to stop, to have such a want that it made his stomach hurt. He'd been so close that he could've reached out and touched the man, so caught up in the moment that he almost had. He let his eyes slip closed as he massaged his skull, rubbing and rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

If he'd just moved a little then he could've met those lips in a succulent kiss, if he'd just leant forward and ran his hands through those brown tresses then he could've pulled the man closer to him, their lips and tongues and skin meeting in a passionate embrace.

He pictured those strong hands encircling his waist, pulling him close to press his body against the broad chest of the older man. He imagined the feeling of those shining teeth scraping and biting down his sensitive neck, those lips pressed against the base of his neck as his teacher sucked and licked at his skin, dipping a warm tongue into the hollow of his collarbone.

He pictured being pushed back onto his desk, a leg working its way in between his as a strong body pressed against him, those hands exploring his chest to and back as they pulled his t-shirt off, exposing him to the cold air. He could practically taste the heat coming off of his teacher and the breath mingling with his own.

The warm water from the showerhead ran down his front and he realised with a wince that his little showertime fantasy had caused a not so small problem in his nether regions.

"Fuuuck." He whispered, quietly cursing the man, why did he have to be attracted to such an arsehole? Exhaling softly he let his fingers travel slowly downwards, grasping his erection as he tried and failed not to fantasise about a certain teacher's hands.

**

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**

Aizen leant against the stairwell door, it was the morning break and he'd left the other tutors mingling in the staff room to hide out on the rooftop and smoke – one bad habit that he'd never quite been able to kick. It was rare to see the aloof English teacher conversing with the others during his breaks, as it was he much preferred the solidarity of his own thoughts and was always keen to avoid the inane conversations that perforated the staff room and today, though he would admit it to nobody, he was also intent on trying to avoid a certain redheaded student of his.

He sparked up another black filter cigarette, his fourth in a row, and scowled at his hands as they flicked at his expensive looking lighter, the flame dancing in the breeze that skirted along the rooftop. He only chain smoked when he was stressed or emotionally ruffled – two things that he hadn't been for a long time. The wind picked up, dancing in his hair and nearly extinguishing the resilient flame. As he took the first draw from his cigarette he ran his free hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place and digging his nails into his scalp in irritation.

It was that damned kid. Yesterday his actions in the classroom had been a massive error of judgement. He'd only intended to play with the boy a little, to irritate and embarrass him but instead he'd succeeded in making the entire situation worse. His dreams of the previous night had been riddled with blurred images of sweat against bronzed skin and copper hair, and it was the first time in months that his sleep had been so disturbed. He cursed himself for being so stupid, it had been so long since he'd actually found anybody worth bothering with, so why now? Just when his life was back on the right track why did he have to find that person in his classroom? It just wasn't decent, and Aizen had promised himself that he would become a decent man, just like _she_ always thought he was.

'_What would Momo think if she could see me now?' _he wondered, immediately wishing he hadn't.

He was rudely snapped from his dark thoughts by a pair of arms that flung themselves around him, squeezing tight around his waist and expelling the air and smoke from his lungs. He shot the man hugging him a look of pure hatred as he coughed, choking a little on the smoke, angry that his cool demeanour had been so indecently disturbed.

"Hiyah Sosuke!" The silver haired fox grinned that incessant grin at him from over Aizen's shoulder.

"Gin… What do you want?" Aizen questioned, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his old second-in-command. The grip around his chest tightened as Gin purred low in his throat, nuzzling into the brunette's shoulder and inhaling the scent of cigarettes and aftershave.

"You know what I want." He whispered, flicking out his tongue to taste the skin of the English teacher's neck. "It's been too long, my lord." Aizen's scowl deepened and he pushed the smaller man from him, not at all sorry when he hit his back against the wall.

"Leave me alone." He almost hissed, his mask of indifference slipping.

"But ya never play with me no more Sosuke." Gin pouted his lips like a spoilt child.

"I thought I made it quite clear, I no longer want to have anything to do with you Gin." Aizen glared, his expression darkening.

"Well now, that's no way to speak to your loyal colleague." All playfulness gone from his voice now, Gin almost snarled as he spoke, "What is it? Am I not good enough for ya anymore?"

"That is precisely it." He retorted, the edges of his patience beginning to fray. "I left behind everything from then; that includes you Gin." The silver haired man blinked in hurt surprise for a moment before that smile returned to his face. He pulled up the sleeve of his pale blue shirt, revealing a white and abused arm littered with scars from cuts and burn marks. Smirking, he leaned over to take the still burning cigarette from Aizen's hand.

"Well, I see you didn't leave behind absolutely everything." He remarked as he gestured with the cigarette before stubbing the still lit end out on the pale skin of his arm, hissing in pain and masochistic pleasure, those slitted eyes opening slightly at the pain to stare intently into the brown pair that regarded him with cool distain.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" Aizen asked coldly as Gin threw the cigarette to the ground.

"My my Sosuke." That grin widened. "That always used to get you so aroused, don't you remember?"

"If you have nothing relevant to say to me Gin, I'll be taking my leave now. I have a class to teach." He growled as he turned to leave. He couldn't stand being around Gin anymore, the silver haired fox always did his utmost to stir up the sadistic tendencies within him, and he couldn't bear for him to succeed. He never wanted to hurt another living creature again, not after what had happened on that snow drenched day.

"Playing hard to get eh?" Narrowed eyes opened to watch Aizen's back as he left, pale blue irises peering out from beneath rarely opened eyelids. Aizen gave no sign that he heard the parting words, and once he had descended the stairs to leave Gin alone on the rooftop the slit eyed man murmured in a dangerous tone, "You will touch me again my lovely, even if I have to force your hand."

Gin followed behind him, slamming the door shut on his way down. He also had a class to teach, an unfortunate side effect of being a teacher. He had no real desire to teach, but any job that got him close enough to get under Aizen's skin was good enough for him.

Nobody finished with Gin Ichimaru until he said so.

**

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**

Ichigo was heading down the hallway to his class, completely unaware of the coffee brown eyes watching him intently. Aizen stood at the end of the corridor, trapped in an inane conversation with the slightly mad science dept. head who had jumped him as he made his escape from the rooftop. The man had a way of seeking out Aizen, mainly because he never passed up an opportunity to mess with him. For this reason Aizen despised him and it irritated him no end that he could not merely dismiss the man as a bumbling fool like the rest of them. No - he was keen and highly intelligent and took great delight in making sure that the aloof English teacher knew it, mocking him with his eccentricities and trying to tangle him in his own words.

As Ichigo neared the two men, his usual scowl was replaced with a look of sheer horror and surprise as a pair of green clad arms shot out at him, clamping themselves around his waist as he was rugby tackled to the floor by a blonde with shady eyes and a sly grin. Thankfully the hallway was almost deserted, otherwise they would've taken several innocent bystanders down with them.

"Dammit Kisuke!" he cried as he tried to push the man off of him. "You're just as bad as goat face!"

"Hey that's Urahara-sensei to you while you're in school, Kurosaki-kun." The blonde pouted, tightening his grip on the teen until he gasped for breath.

"Do you make a habit of jumping on students or something?" Ichigo wheezed as he caught his breath. "Get off of me you crazy old man!" he cursed, lashing out and catching Urahara with a right hook to the chin. He flew back on the floor, rubbing his jaw with a mixture of hurt and amusement plastered on his face.

Aizen cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the two men sprawled on the floor. Ichigo looked up and noticed him for the first time, the anger on his face dissipating as that familiar blush flooded his cheeks. The science teacher merely grinned wider as he caught Aizen's glare, gleeful in the fact that he had once again managed to irritate the brunette.

Irritation didn't even begin to cover the emotion that Aizen felt, not only had the blonde totally disregarded him in the middle of their conversation and thrown himself upon someone whom he regarded to be more interesting (in a highly unprofessional manner he might add, seeing as it was a student he had thrown himself upon), that person was_ his_ student, _his _Ichigo and how dare that uncouth man touch him in such a way? He bit the inside of his cheek at that thought, since when did he think of the boy as his? He sighed, it must be that encounter with Gin, he'd never admit it but every time he saw the man his emotions got a bit shaken up, that and the incident in the classroom yesterday… He was a little tired and confused. Putting these thoughts from his mind as best he could, he turned on his heel and left the two of them sitting in the hallway.

"Oops, I think I upset him again." Urahara beamed as he got to his feet and offered Ichigo a hand up, crimson blush that painted the boy's face not going unnoticed. "He's your teacher isn't he Ichigo?" he smirked at the scowl that Ichigo shot him.

"Yea… He's a total asshole though." He glared at the blonde haired friend of the family whom Ichigo had come to regard as family himself, the crazy uncle to match his crazy father. Urahara just laughed and gave him a pat on the back.

"Well you'd better hurry along to class then." He grinned, "Or you're going to be late Ichigo-kun." One glance at his watch told Ichigo that, as usual, Urahara was right.

"Oh sh-!" He exclaimed, grabbing his bag and bolting along the corridor to his classroom, unaware of the grey eyes that watched him, an amused kind of suspicion burning in those irises.

**

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**

As Ichigo trudged home from college, he reflected on what an utter mess the day had been so far. Every time he caught his teachers eye he felt himself blush right down to his feet, the memory of what he done in the shower last night had danced in the forefront of his mind all day and made it really really difficult to concentrate on anything but the coffee coloured eyes which seemed to burn right through to the core of his soul every time he looked into them, the full lips just beginning to be touched and the distinguished hands writing out lessons on the board which he just wished would tangle in his hair and slip around his waist.

His teacher had seemed strangely aware of the boy's discomfort. Normally he would take any opportunity to tease him but today he barely spoke to him unless he really had to and even then he spoke as little as possible. And today there was no staring, no intense gaze upon him while he worked and daydreamed. He didn't like to admit it but he was a little saddened by that fact.

'_Of course he doesn't look at you, you idiot. You're just a student to him, nothing more.' _He shook his head in frustration at his thoughts; he was bringing himself down now that he was alone. Normally he had Renji or Tatsuki to walk home with and serve as a kind of distraction but today he'd stayed behind after class to do his homework in the library and by the time he had left his friends were nowhere to be seen.

"Excuse me…?" a quiet little voice distracted Ichigo from his confused thoughts and he looked up to see a little girl standing in the middle of the road. She looked like a lost little child; the clue that she was more than just lost was in the dark red stain that dripped from her skull down the left hand side of her face, matting her blonde pigtailed hair and dripping on her pink dress. Ichigo sighed and spoke out loud,

"Great, another spirit. Why can't you guys stop following me around?" he snapped, his temper worn thin by irritation.

"But… You're the only one that can see us." She sniffed, rubbing her eyes as though she was about to cry and she just looked so small and frightened that Ichigo immediately relented. She was so similar to Yuzu that his heart just melted for her, not that he was one to abandon any spirit in need anyway. He sighed again; it was bothersome but at least this would help to take his mind off of things.

"Sorry kid," he crouched down to pat her translucent head, "I'll help you, what's the problem?"

"It's those mean bullies, they keep knocking over my flowers." She whimpered, bottom lip trembling a little as she gestured towards the broken vase and scattered flowers lying at the side of the road.

"It's alright; I'll take care of it." He gave her his best reassuring smile. "I'll come by tomorrow with new ones alright? And then I'll take care of those guys."

"Thank you…" she gave a shy little smile and as she began to speak again she was cut off by a relaxed drawl which took them both by surprise.

"Hey what's the berryhead doing?" The voice was not unfamiliar to Ichigo, it came from one of the local thugs. Ichigo didn't know his name but was very familiar with his fists.

"Talking to himself, fucking freak." Another sniggered from behind him. The little ghost girl gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. She whispered,

"It's the bullies…"

Ichigo sighed as he stood up, he'd dealt with these guys a few times before; they were part of one of the smaller gangs in the area and so liked to think they were something special. He'd taken quite a few beatings from them, always giving better than he got but today there were a lot of them and Chad wasn't with him this time. Normally he'd really rather avoid a confrontation, especially with him as outnumbered as he was but a little physical exertion would surely distract him from the annoying presence occupying his mind. Besides, he had promised the little girl he'd take care of them, and Ichigo Kurosaki was a man of his word.

He cracked his knuckles in anticipation, not quite believing himself what he was about to do.

"SHUT UP ALREADY! And somebody tell me, why is this vase knocked over!"

**

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**

Fights were fairly common in the part of town where Aizen lived. It wasn't that it was a run-down neighbourhood or anything; on the contrary it was actually a very pleasant place to live. It just happened to be an area which some of the smaller local gangs populated, occasionally running into each other and starting a ruckus, but in general they left the residents alone. Not that Aizen had anything to fear from _them_, little punks pretending to play with the grown-ups, they'd never dare lay a hand on him. They were just small fish, gangs of teenagers playing war in the suburbs.

He didn't usually bother stopping to observe or interfere whenever a scuffle broke out in the vicinity, if anything he tried his hardest to avoid those sorts of situations. With his backstory and of course his current occupation as a teacher it was always better not to get involved in any situation which might require physical violence.

So as it was, he had no intention or thought of getting involved when he heard the sound of teenage boys jeering and fists connecting with flesh as he made his way up the outdoor steps to his apartment. If it wasn't for the packet which fell from his shopping bag as he placed it on the ground while he wrestled his doorkeys from his pocket, he never would have turned around to pick it up and so glanced in the direction of the fight, catching a glimpse of dazzling orange.

Ichigo was losing. He had known that he would from the very beginning; he was heavily outnumbered after all. Not that he hadn't put up a good fight though, several guys were sprawled on the ground, unconscious or dazed with broken noses and fingers, but he'd reached the end of his rope.

Even as he propelled his fist full force into the squishy face of one thug, another two kicked his legs out from under him, knocking him to the ground. Pain exploded inside his head with the force of a freight train as it connected with the concrete, and he could see stars even as he was dragged to his feet, arms wrenched behind his back as though someone was trying to pull them from his sockets. Through his fogged vision he saw one of them, bleeding from the nose and mouth and a second later all he felt was the pain as fists connected with the hard muscle of his stomach.

He spat blood from his mouth in retaliation, hitting the punk in the face and he smirked through the pain at the strangled cry that he let out. His moment of glory was cut short though as his head snapped backwards with the force of the blow he received.

"Ah! Shit." He mumbled, blood was still streaming out from behind his lips and it felt like he'd dislodged a tooth. The edges of his cloudy vision were darkening, and he knew that he was going to pass out soon. He fought against his eyelids which were determined to slide closed and take him away to unconsciousness.

Just when Ichigo thought he was going to have his face smashed to pieces, the taunts and catcalls from the crowd suddenly stopped. Ichigo winced, thinking that his hearing had surrendered to the ringing in his ears and departed. But he heard somebody speak, a hushed whisper and he realised that the jeering had stopped at the sudden appearance of another person. As much as Ichigo hated to appear in need of rescue, he really was in trouble this time and was momentarily relived that perhaps somebody had come to help him; perhaps he wasn't going to be beaten to a bloody pulp today. He forced his bleary eyes open and saw the hooligans standing in shocked silence, mouths hanging open in a mixture of fear and admiration even as blood dripped from them as they stared at something behind Ichigo and the thug that held him.

"You…" The boy who had been punching Ichigo in the stomach spoke in an awed whisper. "You're… Aizen Sosuke."

Ichigo's insides froze. Was he hearing things correctly? Perhaps he'd been hit in the head harder than he thought because there was no way in hell that his teacher could be here. It was impossible, his mind must be playing tricks on him because even if Aizen was here there was no way that he could be the one demanding such a tone of frightened admiration from these punks. No way.

"Release him." The sound of his voice with the tone of authority laced with such quiet anger was unlike Ichigo had ever heard it to be before, but still it was unmistakeable as his. It was Aizen, no doubt about it.

He dropped to his knees as the grip on his arms was released, and would've fallen on his face if not for the strong and familiar hand that grasped his arm, pulling him back to his feet and draping his arm around broad shoulders. Ichigo looked at him then for the first time and was shocked by the anger burning in his eyes. His glasses were gone; his lips pressed into a tight white line and as he spoke his words dripped with fury and malice.

"If you _ever_ touch him again, I'll make you regret the day you were ever born." An almost visible shiver passed through the group. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes Aizen-sama!" the self-proclaimed leader stammered, looking so frightened it was as though he was going to wet himself at any moment.

"Don't let me see your faces around here again." Aizen commanded as he turned to leave, placing a hand around Ichigo's waist to support him, much to the secret pleasure of the boy. Ichigo let himself be supported, steered across the road and up the steps of what he assumed was his teachers apartment. If Ichigo had enough blood left spare to paint a blush on his face he would've then, out of excitement at being so close to the object of his desire but also out of a terrible sense of embarrassment. He must look like a complete weakling to this man who loved to humiliate him.

"I didn't need your help." He spluttered, blood leaking from his burst lip as though to prove him wrong.

"Would you prefer I let them knock you unconscious?" Aizen raised an eyebrow as he manoeuvred the door open while at the same time supporting Ichigo and picking up his bags of shopping. All traces of that terrible anger had dissipated, his attitude transforming back to the usual mocking tone. "Perhaps I should've, it might have done you some good."

"S-shut up." Ichigo muttered as he gave into the blackness tugging at the edges of his vision. As he floated into unconsciousness he felt strong arms supporting him, lying him down on something soft before all senses were lost and he drifted in darkness.

Aizen stared in mortified amazement at the redhead now sprawled on his couch. He was making a mess, all bloodied up as he was and Gods; he looked more adorable than ever. But now was definitely not the time for thoughts like that. He exhaled softly as he went to fetch the first aid kit. Kneeling beside Ichigo he examined him carefully for broken bones and serious wounds, finding to his astonishment that apart from the loss of a tooth and numerous cuts and bruises the boy was still relatively intact. What the hell was this kid made of, steel?

He rolled up his sleeves; he'd never thought he'd be bandaging up another beaten person on his couch. He could already tell that this kid was going to be one hell of a problem in his meticulous life, and he would admit to nobody how much he was enjoying the disruption already.

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_A/N: I actually have nothing much to say this time, except the plot is astarting now! Up till nows just been setting the scene for before all the drama happens. __And i promise that there will be smex in the next chapter :)_

_Reviews would be lovely too :D  
_


	4. Your Extra Time And Your Kiss

Ichigo could feel hands running over his body, and despite the pain that spiked everywhere he was touched he felt very relaxed. Those hands were soothing as they danced over his skin, winding bandages and cleaning and taping his wounds. Fingers pressed gently at the bruises beginning to swell on his chest and stomach, lingering for a little longer than was necessary over the curves of defined muscle. He felt hyper sensitive after the rough treatment and now every gentle touch sent sparks of heat flying across his skin. He was burning up beneath the cool touch, beneath the calloused fingers that skimmed his skin, working their way up to dab cream to the bruises on his chest.

"Are you awake, Ichigo-kun?" There was that voice again, laced with a humorous edge that made Ichigo feel like he was being mocked. He groaned as the sound dragged him from the depths of his sleep, eyelashes fluttering open as the world was brought hazily into focus.

He discovered that he was lying propped up on a couch, in an unfamiliar room that almost overwhelmed Ichigo with stark colours. The walls were a pristine white and the floor a matching white laminate topped by a thick black rug. Decoration was sparse, the black leather couch upon which Ichigo lay was joined only by another matching sofa directly opposite, with a black and white coffee table in between the two. There was no television, just row upon row of black bookcases which lined the walls; the different colours of the spines of the books standing out against the minimalist black and white colour scheme which the rest of the room conformed to.

He blinked in confusion, caramel eyes widening in shock when he realised that the person running hands along his half-dressed body was none other than his English tutor.

"H-hey! What the hell do you think you're doing!" He snapped, more out of shock then actual anger, blushing yet again as he realised his lack of upper body clothing. It was then he noticed that the whiteness of the floor was marked with patches of dark dried red. As he struggled into a sitting position he couldn't stop himself from groaning at the blunt pain that ached in his limbs. "Is that my blood?" he asked.

"Yes, you made quite a mess on my floor." The amused tone was still evident in Aizen's reply as he recapped the antiseptic lotion that he had been applying to Ichigo's injuries. The redhead scowled but remained silent, not quite sure how to act in this situation. His skin still buzzed from the tender touches of the older man and he was worried that his feelings would not go unnoticed.

They remained at a stalemate, each regarding the other with wary curiosity and both thinking and feeling the same thoughts and emotions without being able to admit it to each other, or even to themselves. It was Aizen who broke the silence,

"I didn't think you were the type of boy to go around picking fights." Ichigo's heart lurched in his chest, great, now he had given completely the wrong impression of himself; Aizen probably thought he was some sort of hooligan.

"I'm not." He muttered in a hurt tone of voice. "There was… They were bothering a little girl."

"A girl?" Aizen raised an eyebrow. "There wasn't anybody else there Ichigo." He reached for Ichigo's wrist and instinctively the boy flinched away, hissing in pain at the sharp discomfort that flared in his wrist as he did so. "It's sprained." Aizen murmured, his voice softer now and almost compassionate. "Let me bandage it for you."

Ichigo hesitated for a moment and they had another short staring contest, Aizen waiting patiently for Ichigo to adjust to the situation. He eventually relented, muttering _'alright'_ and presenting his wrist to be bandaged. Aizen took Ichigo's hand in his, the redhead's cheeks flaring desperately as he felt those rough fingers caressing the soft skin of his wrist. He took a breath and let his eyes slide shut beneath the gentle touch.

Aizen watched those auburn eyes slide shut under the touch of his fingers and had to resist the urge to mimic the boy's actions. He'd never imagined that the rough-around-the-edges teen would have such delicate and tantalising skin. He'd had to take off Ichigo's shirt to tend to his wounds but the minute he had done so he knew he'd made a mistake. The sight of him bare chested and bloodied was almost too much, the lean muscles and defined chest that quivered beneath his fingers, purple marks already swelling beneath the surface of that beautiful skin. He'd had to desperately resist the urge to lean in and place his own wet mark upon the boy's chest, the desire to claim him as his own was almost overwhelming. He'd lost himself in tracing patterns on his skin with the ointment, and if the boy had not awakened when he did Aizen was not sure how much longer he would've been able to resist leaning in and pressing his own lips to the cut and bloodied ones of the young man beneath him.

Even now, when all he was doing was holding the boy's wrist he still felt the warm beat of the blood beneath the skin, the pulse of such life that drew him in until he couldn't think to function correctly anymore.

He finished his work on Ichigo's wrist, deftly tightening the bandage to provide the correct amount of support for the damaged joint, and he rose quickly from his position on the couch next to the boy. He had to get away or he would lose control. Ichigo's eyes snapped open again at the sudden loss of the cool touch and the feeling of weight being lifted from the sofa, and he saw Aizen standing now, regarding him with that same intense stare that he used in class, making a shiver run through Ichigo's body.

"That first aid should suffice." He said, never breaking the gaze. "You need to rehydrate before you go home though… Do you drink tea?"

"Y-yes." Ichigo stammered, feeling himself melting under that stare.

"Good. Wait here, I'll be back in a moment." He turned to leave through one of the two doors in the room, stopping before he stepped through to glance backwards over his shoulder and smirk, "Oh and, Ichigo?" That devious hint had crept into his voice once again. "You can put your clothes back on now." He turned and left, leaving Ichigo sitting on the sofa with a crimson face and a mouth hanging open in surprise and embarrassment.

After a moment he recovered himself, and swore a little at the various aches and pains that flared as he pulled his t-shirt down over his head. There was a mirror hanging on the plain wall and he pulled himself up to make an examination of his appearance, winching as he gingerly touched his swollen cheek. They'd done a number on him alright, but Aizen had done a surprising good job of patching him up. On his face there were several sticking plasters covering what he assumed were cuts and scrapes he got from hitting his face off of the ground. His bottom lip was split and also slightly swollen, and he could taste the acidic tang of blood in his mouth. Dried blood cracked underneath his nose, and when he touched it he was glad to see that it was only bruised, not broken. Black and purple shading was already creeping in underneath one of his eyes. He looked a right mess but it could've been worse.

It would've been worse if not for Aizen showing up. And what the heck had happened there anyway? Those guys had them both outnumbered and they'd already beaten him to a pulp, so why would they turn tail and run all of a sudden when faced with one English teacher? Surely Aizen must know those thugs somehow but how could a man such as he be associated with a bunch of lowbrow gang members? Any way you looked at it, it just didn't make any sense, and it was only making Ichigo's head ache worse to think about it.

Aizen stood in the kitchen, bracing himself against the kitchen counter with both hands. He took deep breaths and waited for the kettle to boil. He had almost lost control, seeing those thugs hurting Ichigo like that. Every nerve in his body longed to smash their bones and tear out their eyes for daring to lay a finger on _his_ Ichigo. It had been so difficult not to give in to the swelling fury within him, but somehow he had managed it. Taking care of the boy took priority, and so it was a good thing for those punks that he had Ichigo's wounds to distract him with, though taking care of those only made that anger flare up more than ever, along with another unwanted emotion that he was becoming unable to deny.

He wanted the boy. He wanted him so badly that he couldn't stand it. This incident had only served to intensify that feeling, he'd been secretly so impressed by the way in which the boy handled himself in that fight, sure he had lost but that was to be expected. It was an unfair fight and in a fair match he was sure Ichigo would have emerged victorious. Aside from that there was the overwhelming desire to protect something, to protect Ichigo. This feeling was like that which he had not experienced since she died, and one he thought he would never experience again. To bind yourself to another person in that way was to leave your heart open to attack, and he had learned the hard way never again to let that happen.

The kettle screeched for attention and Aizen obliged, pouring the boiling water into two spotless white mugs and letting the teabags steep in the water for a few moments. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window and took a moment to compose himself, smoothing back his hair with a perfectionist's precision before giving the teabags a quick stir and removing them from the water. Taking the steaming hot mugs in each hand he took a deep breath and, readjusting his emotional mask, headed back through to the living room.

Ichigo turned his gaze from the ground to lock eyes with Aizen as he reappeared through the doorway.

"I'm sorry about your floor." He mumbled, embarrassment painting his face.

"It's okay." Aizen expressed an unusually gentle smile. "It's laminate. The blood will just wipe off. Here's your tea" he handed the steaming mug to Ichigo, the boy accepting it with a courteous nod. Aizen sat himself down on the couch across from Ichigo, setting his mug down on the coffee table with a soft click. A heavy silence hung in the air, neither man sure what to say to break the quiet.

"Thank you." It was Ichigo who broke the silence. "For helping me." He mumbled, his embarrassment increasing as he apologised. Aizen raised an amused eyebrow at that still present blush.

"I thought you said you didn't need any help?" he teased, reminding the boy of his earlier remark.

"Look I'm trying to thank you here!" Ichigo snapped. "Can you not be an asshole for five minutes?" Aizen blinked in surprise, realising that the boy was more psychically and emotionally exhausted that he'd thought.

"My apologies." He murmured, his eyes never leaving Ichigo's golden brown ones. An expression of guilt filled those eyes as Ichigo realised what he'd just said.

"N-no, I'm the one who should be sorry." Ichigo averted his gaze to stare at the mug cradled in his hand. "I'm just a little tightly wound right now."

"So I see." Aizen mused. "I take it this is not the first time you have been in a fight like that?"

"Huh?" Ichigo turned his gaze back to his teacher. It was true, Ichigo was not inexperienced when it came to fighting with the local hooligans, but how did he know that?

"The scars on your arms and chest." Aizen indicated. Ichigo blushed again, remembering that his teacher had already seen his body and his battle wounds.

"Oh." He muttered. "Yea. I mean, jerks like them are always picking fights with me."

"Hmm" Aizen made a noise in the back of his throat. "Why, may I ask?"

"I dunno." He shrugged "Probably 'cause I'm… different." Ichigo bit his tongue. He was finding it so easy to talk to Aizen that he almost blurted out his secret. Nobody except his family knew of Ichigo's unusual ability, to see those which should not be seen. His sisters had a touch of this ability about them too, much to the dismay of his father who didn't, and wailed about this fact every time Ichigo came home with another spirit in tow.

"Different?" Aizen questioned, though his voice bore no tone of confusion.

"It's a little difficult to explain…" Ichigo paused as he considered what to say. "I don't really want to go into it."

"Alright." Aizen could see the boy was sensitive about this matter, so he let it be. He could see how the boy was different; he could see how he shone. Even now bandaged and bruised he still seemed like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Ichigo blushed deeper beneath his orange hair, there was that stare again, it was driving him mad and he just couldn't look into those eyes any longer. Diverting his attention to his tea, he tried to cover his discomfort by taking a large gulp of the hot liquid, forgetting just how warm it was

He coughed and choked as he felt the tea burn his tongue, struggling to keep a frim hold on his mug for fear of dropping it. Aizen sighed a little as he rose, coming round the table to lean over the redhead. Ichigo choked even harder as he realised the close proximity of his teacher's face to his own, his face growing even redder than before.

Aizen smirked as he took the mug from Ichigo, leaving the boy with free hands to cover his mouth as he coughed. He placed the mug down on the table next to his, before sitting himself down on the couch beside Ichigo. He patted the boy's back while he spluttered, feeling the vibrations in Ichigo's chest pass through his fingertips.

Once Ichigo had ceased his coughing he sat upright again and tried to regain his composure. That hand had not yet left his back and he felt Aizen still rubbing circles against the thin fabric of his shirt. His face was redder than ever now with the combination of choking and embarrassment.

Aizen let his hand linger on the small of Ichigo's back. He could feel the warm skin through the boy's clothing and he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. Ichigo was blushing again, the skin with the remnants of a summer tan now tinged with glorious red. He wouldn't make eye contact with him; his eyes were fixed firmly on his hands now clasped in his lap.

Aizen took a moment to once again let himself visually explore the boy's face. The heavy lidded eyes so bright and fiery, the shining ochre colour brought out all the more by the blue and purple bruise now swelling beneath his right eye. The flawless skin was still the smoothest and most beautiful that he had ever seen, even when it was marked with bruises and band aids. The fullness of his lips was even more pronounced now with the swelling from the attack, the split bottom lip just beginning to be touched.

Ichigo tried to swallow the lump in his throat, the feeling of the hand caressing his back was driving him insane. He wanted to feel that hand stroking his skin and not his clothes. He felt a gentle pressure on his back and turned his head to face the man sitting next to him, his ochre coloured irises met dark coffee brown and all of a sudden he found it hard to breathe. He'd never seen a more handsome being; dark eyes set in pale skin, framed by silver rimmed glasses, a few strands of chestnut brown hair falling in between his eyes and over his sharp nose while the rest was elegantly smoothed back in such a way that he could barely resist the urge to reach out to tangle his hands in that hair and mess it up. His gaze dropped slightly as he took in those lips, so soft looking in contrast to the rest of his appearance.

"You're always blushing when I talk to you, Ichigo." Those lips spoke his name in such a tone that sent a shiver running throughout his body. "Just like a ripe strawberry." Ichigo gasped as his teacher reached up to run fingers along his lips. "I've been wondering, how exactly do you taste?" he murmured, his voice soft and heady as he brought his face closer to Ichigo's. "If I lean in to capture your lips, will they be as succulent as that fruit?"

Neither of them knew which one of them initiated the kiss; they both seemed to move simultaneously and before they knew it they were pressed up against each other, lips meeting in frenzy as Ichigo felt the hand on his back slip round his waist to pull him close, pressing him against the broad chest of the older man. Another hand slipped into orange strands, tangling in his hair as he caressed the boy's scalp.

Ichigo let his own arms sneak around Aizen's waist, relishing in the feeling of muscles and the warmth of his body. He felt a tongue run along his bottom lip and moaned a little at the touch, Aizen taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into the redhead's warm mouth, running his tongue along unblemished teeth. It felt better than Ichigo had ever imagined, pressed together like this, their lips touching and, oh God, that tongue caressing his own. He'd never thought that his fantasies would become reality, never imagined that he'd really be here like this with his teacher.

His teacher.

A pleasant heat was building in Aizen's stomach as their skin touched, electricity sparking through his body. He shivered a little, the boy's arms were stronger than he'd imagined. He'd seen those muscles first hand when he had been dressing his wounds and had been impressed, but feeling them wrapped around him was better still, knowing that the boy wanted him just as much as he wanted the boy, it was more than he could have ever hoped for. He'd never thought that his fantasies would become reality, never imagined that he'd really be here like this with his student.

His student.

He pulled back, their lips separating and their bodies protesting the loss of contact while their minds went blank with sheer horror. They stared at each other, both sets of eyes wide, a look of shock adorning Aizen's face that would've been comical in any other situation. Ichigo's throat and mouth were suddenly as dry as a desert as panic flooded his mind.

'_What had they done?'_

Ichigo jumped up from the couch, his mouth wide as he stammered.

"I gotta- I gotta go."

"Ichigo." Aizen rose from the couch but before he could take a step towards the teen Ichigo had already moved, grabbing his bag and jacket from the floor where Aizen had dropped them as he tended to Ichigo's injuries.

"I gotta go home." Ichigo reiterated, that look of panic still evident on his face as he fumbled for the handle of the door behind him. "My family will be wondering where I am."

"Ichigo!" Aizen spoke again, using his best tone of authority but Ichigo was out of the door quicker than he could move. He didn't even shout a goodbye as he slammed the door shut, leaving Aizen standing spurned in his living room, a look of confused shock still on his face.

He sank back down onto the coach, cradling his head in his hands and sighing deeply.

Just what had he done?

**

* * *

**

Ichigo slammed the front door open as he arrived home, adrenaline still coursing through his veins causing his whole body to shake even as he instinctively moved to avoid his father's flying kick.

"ICHIGOOO MY SON! YOU'RE LATE! YO- What's this!" Isshin recovered himself from his position on the floor, and gasped as he saw Ichigo's bandages. "You got injured again and you let somebody else bandage you up? OOOH MASAKI I AM A FAILURE AS A FATHER!" He wailed as he threw himself at the poster of Ichigo's late mother, bashing his head off of the wall and falling to the floor again.

"IDIOT FATHER!" Ichigo shouted, the usual hint of joviality absent from his voice. Isshin gazed up blearily from his position on the floor, and Ichigo saw the look of surprise on both his face and his sisters at both his injuries and his sudden outburst. "I'm going to bed." He muttered, turning and storming off up the stairs.

"What's wrong with Ichi-nii?" Yuzu asked, a look of concern painting her face.

"Did you upset him again Dad?" Karin scolded as she towered over her father. The puppy dog look on Isshin's face told her that he had. "Honestly, you always have to go and make things worse with him don't you?"

"WAAH MASAKI! WHAT HAVE I DONE!" Isshin wailed as he threw himself against the wall, again.

Ichigo dropped his bag on the floor and divested himself of his clothing before collapsing onto his bed, trying to ignore the throbbing pains that spiked all over his body as he did so.

He heard his father wailing from downstairs and couldn't help but find a bitter parallel with those words.

'_What have I done?'_

_

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_

_A/N: Okay, this chapter is a little shorter than the other ones but on the plus side it was a much quicker update :p_

_Not sure i'm happy with this one though... I might re-write it later. _

_Feedback would be really appreciated.  
_


	5. You Don't Know What You're Running From

Ichigo lay in his bed, tossing and turning and trying to ignore the dull aches that flared in his every muscle as he moved. A monster was rampaging instead of his head, but regrettably the migraine pain was doing little to distract him from his thoughts.

'_What the fuck… How the hell did this happen?'_

It was 2am and he still couldn't sleep. He was doused up on painkillers from the clinic but instead of helping him to sleep they made the situation worse. He slugged half-awake through a muddled state of guilt, horror and a secret thrill that set off sparks in his stomach. His mind tormented him with images, with memories of the feelings of strong arms wrapped around his body, the memory of a heart beating in time with his, the feel of soft lips, sharp teeth and a warm tongue caressing his own. He blushed a deep red beneath his bed sheets, curling up into a ball and trying to think of something, anything but the feel of his teacher's lips on his own, the feel of intimacy with another human being.

When he eventually fell asleep it was to an unconscious state so deep he did not awake for almost 12 hours, but even upon awakening the next day the feelings and images were still imprinted strongly on his mind.

* * *

Something was wrong, Renji could just tell. It wasn't just the fact that Ichigo was absent, that was worrying but not surprising. Ichigo had always been a bit of a rough child, getting into fights with guys twice the size of him, Renji had lost count of the number of times he'd half carried the limping redhead home, and the number of times he'd subsequently been thrown out of Ichigo's house for being a bad influence by his father, or more likely, his little sister. That midget sure knew how to kick a guy where it hurts. It was worrying because it'd been a while since the last time Ichigo had gotten hurt so badly that he had to take a day off, and also because the redhead had sworn that he was going to settle down with the fighting since he'd started college. And he'd been doing well so far, but the kid had a temper and a defiant streak a mile wide which Renji knew would get him into serious trouble one day. Perhaps he should go visit him after class, though he knew that by doing he risked evoking the wrath of the kicking midget.

No, it wasn't the absence of Ichigo which had caught Renji's attention; it was less to do with his redheaded classmate and more to do with the devil that commanded their fates (as far as classwork was concerned away.)

Aizen was in a foul mood, which in itself was not that unusual. What was unusual was the way in which the mood was affecting him. Normally when his teacher was not in the best of spirits, it was due to a particularly nasty hangover or an entire class missing the deadline for assessments. He took out his mood on his students or any innocent passers-by, usually by snapping at them (he never shouted) and giving out sadistically large amounts of homework. He would work it out of his system and by lunchtime would be back to his normal mood of indifference and superiority (which in Renji's opinion was not much of an improvement on his 'bad' moods).

This was different. To begin with, the mood had not worn off. And the way in which it expressed itself was different, sure the underlying grump and unpleasantness was still present, but along with it came a great sense of weariness as though the man hadn't slept in a week. Nothing in his physical appearance was any different. His hair was still perfectly styled, his shirt (today a red number with a flawlessly tied black tie) was crease and dirt free as normal, his silver glasses still glinted on his nose and his shiny black shoes were still as clean as though they had been freshly shined. (Renji secretly wondered how long it took Aizen to groom himself so perfectly every morning, and how the hell he managed it, didn't the man sleep?)

But something was off. He carried with him a great sense of weariness like a weight on his back. His teaching was the same as normal, but even when he snapped at an unsuspecting student sleeping at the back, it seemed as though his heart was not really in it. He was pre-occupied with something, instead of marking papers and scribbling notes whilst the class worked as he normally did, Aizen instead sat with his head into his hands, or staring off into space with a blank look on his face, as though there was an interesting grammatical problem that he was trying to work out in his head.

He had commented on this change in mood to his classmate, but Grimmjow (not the most observant of people at the best of times, unless of course the situation involved a pair of breasts) shrugged it off. And nobody else seemed to notice much of a different, but Renji did. He liked to think that not many other students knew his teacher the way he did, after all he had already gone through a year of torturous coursework and detentions with the older man, and so imagined that they had some sort of special understanding that the others did not. He felt as though he was superior to his classmates in this aspect, and he was sure that something was wrong. Something had shaken the normally stoic teacher; something had affected him on a deep and personal level.

And Renji was determined to find out what it was.

He took his chance at the end of the class, whilst the other students got out of the room as quickly as they could possibly move he hung back, shouting across the room at his little gang of friends that he had to stay behind for extra study again (which was actually entirely true, not that he intended to go). As soon as the other students left the room and Aizen began setting things out for his next class he headed over with the intent to pry into his teacher's personal business.

Aizen exhaled as he saw Renji approaching, he was not in the mood to deal with any of the redhead's nonsense right now, not after the night he'd had.

"Hey Aizen-sensei! What's up?" Aizen winced at Renji's complete lack of subtlety.

"Is there something I can do for you, Abarai-kun?" his tone was as cold as ice and most students would've turned tail and ran at such a response from the commanding teacher. Not Renji however, he was far too thick skulled for that of course.

"No, I was just wondering what's been up with you today?" Renji's usual stupid grin was gone from his face, and Aizen frowned at him in confusion. He hadn't really been that obvious, had he?

"I assure you Abarai," he retorted in a sharper tone now, "That there is nothing 'up' with me, not that it would be any of your concern if there was."

"But I…"

"If there's nothing else, I have to get ready for my next class." Aizen cut Renji off mid-sentence. He couldn't believe that he was being quizzed on his personal problems by his most irritating student, and it was certainly not something that he was prepared to deal with in his current state.

"Alright then, I see it's obviously a sensitive subject." Renji stopped for a moment to run through the list of probable causes before settling on one and winking at his teacher. "Girl problems eh? Don't say another word." His grin was wider than ever now, all seriousness gone from his questioning. "I understand."

"Abarai…" Aizen was at the end of his fuse with the insufferable student, and Renji realised that he wasn't going to be able to push much further with the subject, even though he had a feeling that he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Alright, alright I'm going." He turned to leave before risking one final push. "Don't worry; your secret is safe with me."

"Just go." Aizen sighed; Renji could really be insufferable at times. Scratch that - most of the time. And he just loved messing with people, be it his best friend or his scary English tutor. Just as the irritating redhead was about to walk through the classroom door, he turned back around again as though struck by a sudden thought.

"Hey sensei, do you know why Ichigo isn't here today?" he questioned, that stupid quizzical look back on his face. Aizen's heart almost skipped a beat at the mention of Ichigo's name, was it possible that Renji somehow knew what had transpired between the two of them? He knew that Ichigo and Renji were close but would he really have told anyone about what happened? On second thoughts, Ichigo had looked as shocked and ashamed over the incident as he had, and he really didn't think that Ichigo would've repeated it to anyone, especially not the loud mouthed Renji.

"I'm sure I have no idea…" Aizen sighed in reply, closing his eyes as he turned away from Renji to signal that the conversation was over. Renji blinked a little in surprise at the curt response and stood there for a moment longer before shrugging it off and leaving.

"Alright then. See you tomorrow sensei." He let the classroom door bang shut behind him and Aizen scowled at the loud noise it produced. He sighed again as he brought up a hand to massage his temples. Glancing at the clock, he noted that he had ten minutes until his next class. Just enough time for a cigarette. He had been chain smoking like an old woman all night and still his nerves felt shot. If this kept up he knew he'd be breaking out the alcohol tonight. But perhaps that was what he needed, go out, get drunk, take a pretty boy home and fuck him till he couldn't stand. Perhaps that would sort him out, stop him tossing and turning and smoking cigarette after cigarette in an attempt to ward off images of orange hair and bruised lips that danced in his head all night and into the morning.

As he stood on the roof, cigarette in hand, he decided that he was right, that was exactly what he needed. This (_obsession_) infatuation was probably the result of too long without a bed partner. He briefly considered giving the silver fox a visit but dismissed that idea as quickly as it came. That man was too dangerous to consort with any longer and he would give him no reason further to haunt his footsteps in the hallways. A stranger would be best; someone that he could use and brush off as soon as they'd served their purpose. It was a Friday and he knew that later that night he would have no trouble in picking up a partner from one of the local bars haunted by drunks and singles, both gay and straight.

He was Aizen Sosuke and he always got what he wanted, and what he wanted right now was all thoughts of the redhead's lips to be erased from his memory, even if it meant replacing them with those of a stranger. That was easier after all, everyone who got tied to him emotionally ended up hurt or worse, and so he had taken to fraternising with people not looking for any kind of attachment beyond the physical friction of one night. And it had worked well, until now. But tonight he would set things right, and return Monday morning rested and fresh, without any thoughts of orange haired men running through his head.

His mind set on this new course of action, he stubbed his cigarette out against the stone wall and dropped it to the ground as he headed back down to join the bustle of the college building. Right now he had another class to attend too, one that was thankfully free of both attractive and annoying redheads.

* * *

Around about the time Aizen crushed out his cigarette against the wall, Ichigo awoke from his painkiller induced, coma like sleep and was immediately hit with two sledgehammers of pain. First came the physical pain from his wounds and the headache which seemed to have gotten even worse overnight. He clutched his head with his hands and groaned as he curled up into a ball underneath his covers. The second sledgehammer hit when he remember why he'd been having such strange dreams of coffee coloured eyes, soft hair, blood and fists and cups of tea.

'_Oh my God. I kissed my teacher. And he kissed me. Oh. My. God.'_

The memories of the previous day attacked him like a swarm of wasps crawling inside his mind and he groaned even louder beneath the bedclothes. His headache made his brain feel like it was expanding, pressing in against his skull and he wished that he'd never woken up.

Ichigo probably would've stayed that way, curled up in his bed, all day if he had not been shaken from his little ball of pain and self-loathing by his father who had come upstairs with more painkillers and food for his injured son and was surprised and worried to find him curled up in the foetal position making a noise like a wounded animal.

A bowl of soup and several painkillers later and Ichigo was starting to feel more like a human. The initial wave of panic had worn off along with the intense pain of the headache which now thudded inside his head like a drumbeat, but without the razor sharp edge that had accompanied it when he awoke. The memories of his teacher were still fresh in his mind but the thudding pain and drowsiness that came with the painkillers provided a welcome distraction from them. He was quizzed by his father as he ate, had lights shone in his eyes, his temperature taken and he was poked and prodded until Yuzu came upstairs and pointed out that there was quite a queue of patients downstairs at the clinic waiting to be seen.

"Yuzu, what are you doing here?" Ichigo asked, confused to see her at home. He was sure that it was a Friday, and that she should be at school. Unless he'd slept longer than he'd thought…

"She refused to go until she knew that you were alright Ichigo." Isshin replied for her and Yuzu blushed a little as she walked into the room. Ichigo immediately felt terribly guilty. One of the reasons he'd decided to stop fighting so much was because of how it affected his little sisters. Karin was tough, and that was the problem. Ichigo didn't want her turning out like he had, getting into fights every other day. And Yuzu, well she was delicate, sweet and innocent and every time Ichigo had come home beaten and bloody she would cry until her eyes turned red and puffy. And here Ichigo had been lying wallowing in self-pity, completely forgetting about how his fighting affected them. He was disgraceful.

"I'm sorry Ichi-nii, I just had to make sure that you're okay." She blushed deeper as she took the thermometer from her dad's hand and shooed him out of the room to attend to his actual patients.

"No Yuzu, I'm the one who should be sorry." How would his family feel if they knew what had happened yesterday? They would be shocked and ashamed. Ichigo immediately felt ever guiltier. "I'm an idiot, I made you upset."

"I'm fine." Yuzu shook her head and stood over him as she checked his temperature, placing her little hand on his forehead. "I'm a big girl now; I can't keep getting upset every time something like this happens."

"That's no excuse for me to act out." He replied, opening his eyes which had slipped shut under her cool touch and forcing a weak smile. "Forgive me?"

"Of course." She smiled back at him before consulting the thermometer. "Your temperature is normal, but you're going to be in a lot of pain for the next couple days. You should probably stay in bed. I need to go back downstairs to help Dad, but if you need anything just shout." He nodded, right now he felt as though even if he'd wanted to he could not physically force himself to move any further than across his bedroom to the bathroom. Even that short distance seemed like a challenge with his wounded muscles screaming at him every time he moved.

Yuzu turned in the doorway as she left, peering into the dim light of the room and asking in her soft tone,

"You know Ichi-nii, if something is bothering you, you can always talk to me about it, right?"

Ichigo paused for a moment; he'd forgotten just how perceptive she could be to his moods. Although it hurt a little even to smile, he managed to shoot one at her as he replied,

"Of course Yuzu. Thank you."

A warm feeling had flooded his body that was not entirely sure was just painkiller related. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again he realised that he had fallen asleep without even fully realising it. The neon clock at his bedside now read 16:45. He had slept through all of his classes of the day, and at this time on a Friday he was usually messing around somewhere with Renji or off visiting Chad or Orihime. He didn't get to see much of his school friends during the week, they all were off attending various other colleges or working at their day jobs and suddenly Ichigo felt a sadness at the fact that he had missed going to see them today. He would make up for it next week when he felt less like a human punch bag. When he would be less preoccupied with thoughts of brunettes with piercing eyes and lips which were surprisingly warm and soft.

He lifted a book from his bedside table and smacked himself lightly on the forehead. The headache monster flared and roared in indignation, distracting himself from his thoughts.

'_Just don't think about it.'_ He told himself. In his unconscious state he had decided that the best route of action would be simply to ignore the problem and hope that it went away. Even he had to admit that this seemed like a very poor course of action give the circumstances, but what else could he do? He'd made a stupid mistake with an insufferable man whom he'd happened to find attractive. Normally it wouldn't be much of a problem, if not for the man's position in his life. Right now he could only hope that he'd gotten things out of his system and that when he returned on Monday the feelings would've died down and this whole confusing (_exciting_) episode could be over and done with. Ignoring the sick feeling that crept into the pit of his stomach at that thought, Ichigo turned over and opened the book that he'd smacked himself with, intending to lose his thoughts and drown his sorrows in the adventures and misfortunes of somebody else.

* * *

_MASSIVE AUTHORS NOTE: PLEASE READ._

First_ of all guys, I want to issue a massive apology for the lateness of this chapter. I haven't done any fic writing in about 6 months now for various reasons (uni work, broken laptop, ridiculous student social life, etc etc.) So here it is – I'M SO SORRY._

_I do plan to start trying to update both this fic and my other two ongoing ones _('Darkest Blue' _and_ 'You Know Where To Find Me'_, just in case you're interested) more regularly now. It doesn't mean that I'll be firing out updates every single week, but I shall try my best. So bear with me, come summer I'll have a lot more time for writing so just hang on for now. I promise I will not give up on any of them._

_Also - you guys are amazing. Even when I haven't updated in over 6 months I'm still getting favourites, subscriptions and reviews expressing interest. Thanks so much for your continued support, and believe me, reviews aren't just there to feed my ego, they help give me the kick up the backside I need to get writing again. So thank you for that._

_Thanks for reading and as always, I would love to hear what you thought of this (especially as I wrote this chapter in one night, fuelled by insomnia, cigarettes and alcohol. So it may be a little sloppier than usual. Sorry.)_

_- Katrinea_

_P.S. Why won't you stay in character Aizen! Stop being a whiny bitch. Unfortunately there will be more whinybitch!Aizen in the next chapter, but hopefully then he'll get over it. _

_The next chapter should be up tomorrow by the way guys :) 'What is this, two chapters in two days?' i hear you cry. Well its just my present to you for being so patient and generally awesome. Enjoy. _


	6. Your Skin Feels So Familiar

_A/N: Warning: Contains male on male action and large quantities of whinybitch!Aizen._

_Enjoy._

* * *

The bar was packed, it was close to midnight now and for most the night was just getting started. The neon lights had begun to flash and the music had gotten louder now that the party goers were piling in. It was normally about this time of night that Aizen would finish his last drink and head home, allowing the cold air and the walk back to his flat to clear his mind. He never understood the appeal of clubbing, a writhing mass of sweaty, drunken bodies, dancing (or what passed for dancing nowadays) and drinking to excess until they were physically sick, searching for an answer in the intoxicated embrace of another (well, that last part he could sympathise with, especially tonight).

As it was, he had already left the bar. But he was not headed home; in fact he hadn't gone far at all. As he had just discovered, the bar had a service entrance leading to a secluded alleyway which ran round the back of the building and Aizen had just arrived in this alleyway, pulled along by the enthusiastic young man that he'd been getting acquainted with in the bar over a good many drinks.

And now the stranger (_what did he say his name was again?_) was getting even better acquainted with Aizen's body. He pushed the older man up against the wall, his eyes glazed over with lust and chemicals. Aizen frowned a little as he was pressed against the wall by the young man in what felt like a display of dominance. In his sexual encounters he was always the dominant one, and that this _boy_ thought that he was in control here made Aizen irritated and he had to resist the urge to push the other man away from him.

Who the hell was this kid anyway? He looked barely old enough to be legally allowed into the bar (though Aizen knew that this place was strict on age restrictions, so the boy must be at least twenty.) He looked hardly a day older than Ichigo.

'_No, stop it. Don't you dare think about him.'_ He silently chastised himself and tried to distract himself from thoughts of brown eyes by intently studying the features of the boy placing kisses along his exposed collarbone. Really though, apart from the similarity in age his current partner couldn't be more different than his troublesome student. His hair was raven black and meticulously styled, his skin was a pale as a vampire and his eyes, what colour were his eyes? Aizen couldn't remember and right now they were hidden from view as the kid focused all his attention on the skin beneath him. He was tall, almost as tall as Aizen himself, but stick-thin. No substance to the kid at all, Aizen was sure that if he tried he could snap the boy's thin wrist like a twig. The arms that encircled his waist and the chest pressed up against his own were frail, entirely unlike the muscular, battle scarred body and arms of the teenager that he'd accosted yesterday.

'_Stop it.'_ He closed his eyes and cursed himself. The entire reason he was doing this was to get away from the memory of the redhead.

"Did you say something?" The boy grinned as he nuzzled against Aizen's neck, blowing warm air against his skin. Aizen looked down at him and saw a dazzling pair of green eyes staring at him. It was almost unnerving. He felt a sudden urge to just leave, go home and get so drunk that he couldn't form any coherent images in his mind, be they of green or brown eyes.

"No. Keep going." He commanded instead, letting his eyes slide shut, his breath hitching as the kid found that sensitive spot on his neck, teeth scraping against skin. He felt a red hot kind of rage bubbling inside him, since when did some kid like this get off on making him gasp? Since when did he let anyone get under his skin like that damned student of his had?

He pushed the other man from him, swinging him around so that he was the one pressed up against the wall. Fuelled by sudden anger and lust, he began unbuttoning the kid's dark shirt with swift fingers, bringing his mouth down to attack the pale, exposed neck. He heard the boy gasp beneath him as he bit down on his neck, pinching the skin with his teeth in a way that he knew would hurt but also feel pleasurable. He slipped cold hands inside of his shirt, running along pale skin and trying his hardest not to think of the muscular, tanned skin that he'd been exposed to the previous day. He brushed his long fingers against an already hardened nipple and felt his partner moan, vibrations buzzing in his throat against Aizen's lips.

He drew back as he felt skeletal hands on his chest, pushing him back a little to allow space for the boy to sink to his knees before him. Thin fingers worked at the zipper of his jeans, cold hands ran along his waist, pulling his underwear down far enough to allow his growing erection to spring free into the warm air of the night.

"Wow. You're certainly not a small guy." His partner grinned, looking upwards with a flash of green eyes. Again Aizen felt the sudden urge to push the dark haired boy away, but he was too far gone now, and when he felt lips (_rough and chapped, entirely unlike those soft and full bruised lips_) brush against the tip of his manhood all thoughts of leaving were gone from his mind. A warm tongue ran along the base of his shaft and he shuddered as he remembered the feeling of his own tongue inside Ichigo's mouth, gently caressing the soft pink organ hiding behind those abused lips.

He let his eyes slip shut, he had no desire to watch the green eyed boy as he took more and more of Aizen into his mouth, licking and sucking like an experienced little whore. The vast quantity of alcohol that he had consumed was dulling both his senses and his judgement, and despite his best efforts not to he could not stop himself from picturing the redhead on his knees. How would Ichigo's mouth feel wrapped around him? He smirked to himself, he bet the boy was a virgin, and he could just picture him sitting and looking at him with that adorable look on his face that he always wore when he was confused.

Aizen lost himself in a fantasy. He imagined keeping Ichigo behind after class, pushing him to his knees before him. He could feel the boy's soft tongue stroking him, red hair bobbing back and forward as he got used to the rhythm of sucking off another man. Heat built in the pit of his stomach as his fantasy intensified. He pictured himself sucking and biting at the boy's unblemished neck, catching his lips in a possessive kiss before bending him over his desk and taking him right there. He could almost feel the warm tightness as he pushed inside of Ichigo, and the pressure inside him spiked at once. He came hard, spilling himself inside of his student, imagining how he would moan and whimper as he was filled with his teacher's seed.

"Who's Ichigo?" Aizen's eyes snapped open and were immediately met with not the brown warmth that he had expected, but with startling green irises staring up at him. The boy was still on his knees, looking up at him in a quizzical manner. He was shocked into an almost sober state as he realised what had just happened. He had been fantasising about his student whilst getting a blowjob from another man, and worse still, he must've let his name slip past his lips as he came. Horror flooded his senses and the urge to get the hell out of there reared its head, more insistent than ever.

"I… I have to go." With shaking hands Aizen pulled his boxers back up, zipping his jeans as quickly as he possibly could. The kid sat there for a minute, looking as though he was entirely unable to process what had just happened. It wasn't until Aizen had turned to head back into the bar that he seemed to grasp the situation and struggled to his feet, yelling after him,

"Fine! Leave then. Yah asshole. Get the hell out of here!"

Aizen stumbled back into the bar, feeling far too sober now for his liking. He decided to rectify this immediately and ordered a strong drink. He stood there for a moment, trying to calm his nerves but realised that he really had to get out of there. He was not relishing another confrontation with that young man that he'd taken advantage of in the alleyway. He was really disgusting. His hands shook as he dialled the number on his cellphone of perhaps the only friend he had left.

'_Come on, pick up the phone you blonde haired idiot.'_ He cursed silently as the phone continued to ring out, and he was just about to hang up when he heard the familiar drawl of Shinji Hirako.

Twenty minutes and a good few more drinks later, Aizen was half stumbling in the passenger seat of Shinji's car, shutting the door behind him with more force than was necessary.

"Woah, what's wrong with you?" the blonde in the driver's seat raised an eyebrow at his friend. Renji liked to think that he knew his mysterious teacher pretty well, but in truth Shinji was the only person who had ever come close to fully understanding the man. They'd been through a lot together, most of it bad, and had somehow emerged intact. Physically intact anyway. The blonde was one of very few people who knew everything that Aizen had been through, and how desperately he'd tried to change.

"Just drive Shinji." Aizen muttered. He looked haggard and weary, not to mention fairly drunk. Shinji pouted and crossed his arms.

"I'm not a fucking taxi service Sosuke. And you'd never call me just for a ride home. What's up?" Aizen acted like he hadn't heard the other man, but Shinji knew the way things worked with him. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the blonde still with his arms crossed, Aizen resting his forehead against his closed fist.

"I'm in trouble Shinji." When he eventually spoke Shinji was surprised at how defeated he sounded. It was not like him at all.

"Trouble?" He was worried now. What could be troubling a man like Aizen? "Is it Ichimaru again?"

"What?" Aizen looked confused, as though Gin Ichimaru had been the furthest thing from his mind. "No, nothing like that."

"Well what then?" Now Shinji was the confused one. He waited expectantly for his friend to answer and when he did he spoke slowly, as though he himself was not quite sure how to express his problem.

"It's… there's this student of mine." Aizen sighed. Now Shinji was even more confused.

"A troublemaker?" he asked.

"Not as such…" Aizen refused to look his friend in the eyes. Now Shinji knew that something was seriously wrong, Aizen was not the kind of man that was ever ashamed to face up to his problems.

"What do you mean? Has he been threatening you?" Shinji dropped his voice to a whisper, despite the fact that they were in a locked car with nobody in the immediate vicinity. "Does he know about you?"

"No, no. It's just…" Aizen cut off mid-sentence and Shinji knew that he was trying to avoid answering. He was getting seriously worried now, had Aizen done something to this kid? He prayed to god that he hadn't somehow had a violent relapse.

"Well…" He prodded at him carefully, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer. Aizen took a deep breath and exhaled before answering.

"I kissed him." Shinji blinked in confusion, was his friend blushing? Surely that was impossible.

"Oh." He said, taking a few moments to let the confession sink in, and when it did he just couldn't stop himself from laughing at the expression on the other man's face. "Fucks sake Sosuke, you had me scared for a minute there." He giggled again, still in disbelief over how worked up his friend seemed over the whole thing. Aizen raised his eyes to meet Shinji's again, his face set in a scowl at his friend's reaction. Shinji swallowed his mirth and coughed out an apology.

"Sorry." He spluttered, taking a moment to calm himself down. "So, he likes you?"

"I don't know." Shinji rolled his eyes at his friend's strangely unsure reply.

"You like him?" He probed further, now that he had gotten wind of a good story he wasn't going to let his friend get away without explaining the entire situation.

"Maybe… Yes. I don't know." Aizen ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back from his face. His eyes seemed lost and glazed, so unlike his usual sharp demeanour.

"Oh boy." Shinji raised his eyebrow again, "I think you'd better explain this to me from the beginning."

"In that case I think I'd better have a cigarette."

Aizen smoked his way through several cigarettes in the time it took him to explain the entire situation to his friend. Shinji just loved a good story and this was like Christmas to him, hearing the entire, juicy saga from the last person he would've expected to have these kinds of problems.

He finished recounting the events of yesterday, sparing little detail under the scrutiny of his friend. He finished with a sigh and waited to hear judgement from the blonde.

"Well," Shinji began, "I really don't see what the problem is here." Aizen had not been expecting this kind of response, even from Shinji.

"What do you mean? Of course it's a problem." He frowned at the man seated next to him, "Did you even listen to a word I said?"

"What happened to the Aizen Sosuke who always got what he wanted huh?" Shinji flicked a cigarette butt at him. "You never used to be afraid of anything but look at you, you're reduced to a teenage girl all 'cause you got feelings for some guy. The kid obviously has a thing for you too right? So what's the problem?"

"The problem, Shinji, is that not only is he ten years my junior, he's also my student."

"So? That never used to bother you." Shinji threw him an incredulous look. "The kid's overage right? It's not like he's some middle school child that you're preying on. He's an adult."

"He's not even old enough to legally drink Shinji." Aizen sighed. He'd forgotten just how open-minded his friend could be.

"Yeah but he's old enough to fuck, right?" Shinji smirked at the look on Aizen's face. "Don't you think it's his decision as much as it is yours?"

"So what are you saying I should do?" Aizen snapped at him a little, he was starting to wish that he'd just gotten a taxi home and downed his sorrows alone. But no, somehow he'd thought it would be a great idea to get his gossipy friend over and have a deep conversation about his _feelings_. Gods, he really had gone soft.

"Just go talk to him Sosuke." Shinji jabbed at his arm with a long finger. "It's not like I'm telling you to go molest the kid. He just deserves to know how you feel."

"Feel?" Now Aizen was the one giving his friend the incredulous look. "Shinji I can't afford to _feel _like this right now. I've finally got my life back on track and…"

"Oh whinge, whinge, poor little me." Shinji cut him off mid-sentence. "Listen to yourself man. You're Aizen Sosuke, stop acting like a whiny bitch." He made a face at Aizen and paused for a moment to let his words sink in.

"You know," Aizen's tone had turned dark again, "You're the only person I'd ever let talk to me like that, but don't push it Shinji." The blonde simply grinned and replied playfully,

"Would I do that? Seriously though, pull yourself together." He paused again and continued in a more sober tone of voice. "I know that it's… difficult for you to let yourself actually care about another human being, but don't you think she would have wanted this?" He locked eyes with his friend again and spoke soft and low. "She wouldn't have wanted you to stay cold, and alone like you are now."

"Shinji, don't…" Aizen tried to cut him off but Shinji was having none of it.

"Maybe it's time you forgive yourself for what happened to her." He stared Aizen down until he broke eye contact.

"Don't. Just don't talk about her Shinji. Not now."

"Alright." Shinji knew that he shouldn't take the subject any further. "Jeeze Sosuke, how much did you have to drink? You're not usually this forthcoming with your feelings."

"Can you please just take me home?" Aizen refused to talk any further on the subject. He was tired and could feel a heavy, alcohol induced sleep coming on.

"Only if you promise you'll go talk to him." Shinji wasn't letting him get off that easy.

"Shinji…" Aizen massaged his temples and groaned, Shinji could be almost as big a headache as Renji when he wanted to be.

"Promise me. Sosuke. This isn't the kind of thing you can just let fester. If it's gotten this intense… well the feelings aren't just gonna go away on their own."

"Alright…" Aizen relented. "I'll talk to him." He turned to see Shinji grinning with glee. He was sure that the blonde was relishing every moment of this, but he couldn't care less right now. All of a sudden, all he wanted to do was sleep. "Now take me home."

The car ride was spent in silence, both men lost in private thoughts about the situation. The next time words were exchanged between the two men was to bid each other farewell as Aizen got out at his flat. The fact that he had slight trouble getting his key in the door suggested that he'd had a bit more to drink that he realised.

Once inside, Aizen wasted no time getting undressed and into bed. Lying there in the dark he groaned at the realisation that Shinji was probably right about this. The blonde was good at this sort of thing, feelings and relationships and deep meanings. And as for himself, well, he'd only ever really loved one other person, and that ended in a situation that he never wished to repeat.

Cursing Shinji he tossed and turned in his bed. What good was talking to the kid going to do? It wasn't going to get the image of him out of his head, that was for sure. But he'd been cornered into making a promise, and though he may not like it, Sosuke Aizen was always a man of his word. Making a silent promise to somehow get back at Shinji for this, he turned over once more and drifted off into a sleep as deep as the painkiller induced one which the object of his confused affections was currently experiencing.

* * *

Morning dawned late on a Saturday at the Kurosaki household. By the time Ichigo had shrugged off the heavy blanket of sleep and rubbed the dust from his eyes, it was already past midday. He let out a heavy yawn, somehow still tired despite awakening from a long, deep sleep. He found that he could move with less pain in his muscles now, and thankful for it, paced around his room for a while, stretching and shrugging out the pains. If there was one thing that Ichigo hated, it was being ill. Lying in bed with nothing to do really irritated him. He was an active person and when sick felt like a bird confined to a cage. It just wasn't natural for him. He felt dirty and realised that he hadn't washed since two days previously. Grimacing at his bruised face in the mirror, he limped his way across the hall to take a shower.

It wasn't until he was standing in the shower, water cascading down his bruised body and matted hair, that he remembered why he had that sick feeling of apprehensiveness in his stomach. Thoughts of Aizen, the way he had fantasied about him the last time he had taken a shower and the memory of _that kiss_ returned in a flash. Without even looking in the mirror he could tell that he was blushing as the memories returned. He shook his head, pushing his face into the jet of the shower as though he could just wash the thoughts away down the drain where they could bother him no longer. When this method proved ineffectual, he settled for humming loudly and thinking about how much work he still had to do for college. He really couldn't afford to fall behind so early in the semester, and despite the massive mess of fear and excitement which lurched in his stomach at the thought of facing _him_, he hoped that he would be healed enough to return come Monday.

Stepping out of the shower he wrapped himself in a towel and forced his muscles to take him on the epic journey across the hall to his bedroom. Halfway there he heard the doorbell ring downstairs, accompanied by Karin shouting that someone else had to answer the door, apparently she and Yuzu were currently engaged in a particularly riveting video game. Ichigo paused in the hall for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he should risk limping downstairs to answer the door in his towel, it was probably just that idiot Urahara stopping by for one of his 'surprise visits' anyway. Thankfully he heard his dad stomping through from the kitchen to confront whoever was ringing the bell so insistently, and Ichigo continued his trek across the hall to his room.

Towelling himself off as effectively as he could with the shooting pains in his arms, he quickly pulled on a pair of boxers and his most comfortable pair of lazy day jeans. Growing up he had quickly learned that if he hadn't seen his father yet in the morning he was liable launch a surprise attack at any time, which had led to many an embarrassing episode in which his father burst into the room when Ichigo wasn't yet dressed. Satisfied that his modesty was preserved in the case of a sudden attack, he flopped down on his bed, wincing at the pain which sparked in his legs and sides as he sat down heavily on his mattress.

Now that he was showered and clean he was starting to feel a little better. His headache had subsided, the physical one anyway. The mental images of the exchange between himself and his teacher were still fresh in his memory, and a lot more difficult to get rid of. He sighed, if only painkillers took care of this sort of thing too then he'd be feeling even better. But there was no point in brooding over this any longer, it was hardly going to fix the situation.

He had just begun to start towel drying his hair when he heard Isshin shout something up the stairs at him. Removing the towel from his head, he strained his ears but heard nothing. Shrugging, he stood to walk over and open the door, but before he had crossed the room he heard a knocking at his door. Frowning, he wondered who it was, since his family never bothered to knock before entering he assumed that one of his friends had dropped by to see how he was, even though he hadn't actually told anyone what had happened to him yet. Perhaps Renji had dropped by to see why he had missed class the previous day, but he doubted it. Renji was still mentally scarred after the last time Karin had thrown him from the house, aiming her best football kick at his nether regions before slamming the door in his face. No, he didn't think Renji would be coming back in a hurry.

The knock on his bedroom door came again and shook him from his reverie. He crossed the remaining length of the room, reached out and pulled the door open in one swift movement, and he swore his heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw the tall figure standing there, the man with the dark brown eyes that had been haunting his dreams of the past few nights.

"Good afternoon Ichigo-kun." Sosuke Aizen smiled at him from the doorway. "How are you feeling today?"


	7. Cause You Make Me Surrender

"Good afternoon Ichigo-kun. How are we feeling today?"

With his trademark mocking smirk plastered on that ridiculously handsome face, Aizen was standing there in Ichigo's doorway. Impossibly dark eyes ran over the younger man's battered body, taking in his injuries, making Ichigo blush as deeply as his damp hair. For once Ichigo's fight or flight instinct told him to run and the man blocking his only means of escape put him on edge, making him panicked and flushed.

Aizen eyed his perplexed student up quickly, taking in the exposed injuries, visible cuts, scrapes, bruises and one particularly nasty up gash above Ichigo's left brow which had required stitches. The teenager's dishevelled appearance caused a sudden, unpleasant feeling to spike in the pit of his stomach along with the familiar swelling of hot rage in his veins. He flexed his slender fingers softly into fists, showing no sign of the sickness he felt upon his impassive face.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" He distracted himself from his growing anger by eyeing up the boy's more pleasant attributes. Damp hair was plastered to his forehead, droplets catching the sunlight as they trickled a path down his exposed chest to the waistband of his jeans. The wandering eyes reminded Ichigo of his current state of undress, and his blush seemed to deepen and expand, highlighting the sun kissed freckles sprinkled sparsely upon his face. He opened and shut his mouth like a fish out of water, struggling for words like air as his mind tried to catch up with the reality of the situation. Words failing him, Ichigo took a few shaky steps back into the room, allowing his tutor to step inside.

Aizen softly shut the door behind himself whilst Ichigo scrambled for the first available item of clothing to cover his bare skin, grabbing a printed t-shirt from a pile of washing and pulling it over his head. Without raising his eyes to look at his tutor, he flopped himself down on his bed in disbelief. His mind was reeling from the sudden appearance of his the man he'd been trying desperately to forget and suddenly he no longer trusted his legs to hold him up. They stayed that way for a moment, Ichigo with his gaze to the floor, Aizen leaning casually against the closed door, waiting patiently for the teen to get a grasp of the situation, allowing Ichigo to be the one to break the heavy silence.

"What are you doing here?" When Ichigo spoke his voice was so low it was almost a hiss, and the emotions of fright and annoyance fighting for dominance upon his face made it necessary for Aizen to cover his laugh with a cough and a hand over his mouth. Brown eyes snapped up to glare at the older man and the sheer panic on his face was replaced with a quickly deepening scowl. "What's so funny?" he snapped, more out of hurt surprise than actual anger.

"I apologise. That was rude of me." Aizen coughed softly again as he readjusted his delicately framed glasses. "But I think you know why I'm here." He stared Ichigo down until the scowl upon his face softened, the fire in his eyes calming as he looked away again. "We need to talk."

"What's there to talk about?" Ichigo muttered as he stared down at his bedsheets, his face unreadable even by someone used to dealing with sulky teenagers. His indifference set off a spark of annoyance in Aizen; he was not someone who could be so easily dismissed.

"Don't act stupid with me Ichigo." He spoke sharply in his best teacher's voice. "It doesn't suit you at all." A slight flinch showed a weakening in Ichigo's defences, but he remained silent and staring. Aizen sighed; the stubbornness of youth was definitely one of the younger generation's worst features. Evidently he still needed to break down some emotional walls.

Changing the subject, he lifted the dog-eared book from Ichigo's bedside table. It was _'Hamlet'_. Raising his eyebrows in surprise at the title he asked in an amused tone, "Is this your idea of bedtime reading?"

"So what if it is?" Ichigo grumbled, his expression shifting slightly towards annoyance once again. A smile curled at Aizen's lips.

"You're a strange one Kurosaki." He mused. The scowl returned with a vengeance.

"Oh I'm sorry, I thought I was studying literature." Ichigo snapped sarcastically. "How silly of me, I should really be reading comics instead." The brunette raised an eyebrow in a wearied gesture of defeat and let the worn novel drop back upon the table. A suffocating silence hung in the air.

"I'm sorry." The words caught in Ichigo's throat and he coughed to clear the blockade. "I just… I don't know what to say." He raised lost brown eyes to Aizen and his tutor almost found it difficult to confront them. They reflected pain and confusion in a way that only an emotionally chaotic teenager could and Aizen had to remind himself that he was, after all, still a kid. He was barely a young adult and still in the throes of growing pains. He himself had been through more pain and suffering that most experience in their lifetime by the time he was Ichigo's age, but the confused kid gazing pleading at him had no knowledge of this, he had barely even begun to experience the hurt that the world could throw at him and Aizen had no desire to teach him of this.

"We need to talk about what happened." He sat himself down on the bed beside the boy, observing how he flinched from him in a slight and possibly subconscious gesture. The proximity of the warm body flooded Ichigo's mind with memories of their last encounter, and it became difficult to breathe again.

"Why?" Those deep brown pools still stared back at him, reflecting an entire world of worries and possibilities, drenching him with pleading and loss. "Can't we just leave it be?"

"No." He lowered his voice, his tone uncharacteristically free of harshness and sarcasm. "Because I'm not satisfied with things the way they are. And neither are you." Ichigo shifted slightly upon the bed, his hands in his lap clenched and unclenched slightly and he caught his lower lip beneath his teeth.

"How the hell do you know what I'm feeling?" Ichigo tried to sound hostile but instead felt defeated. He'd been seen through as easily as though he were transparent, a fact which both frustrated and, though he'd never admit it, pleased him.

"You're not that difficult to read." A mischievous spark danced in Aizen's dark eyes, but this time his smile was soft and gentle and to Ichigo's surprise he found that the expression quite suited the older man. Despite his fears he found himself relaxing ever so slightly. The knot in his stomach begun to unravel.

"I just… I don't know what to do." He sighed as he tossed his hands from his lap to rest on the duvet. "I… You make me feel something. I don't know if it's just like…" He blushed again, and Aizen would normally have had to bite his lip to keep from showing his amusement at the difficulty which the normally eloquent boy was experiencing in expressing himself, but in this situation he knew exactly how he felt. He verbally prodded a little, hoping to get the boy to open up a little more.

"Like what? A sexual attraction?"Aizen thought that if Ichigo could blush any deeper he would faint from too much blood rushing to his face.

"Yeah…" Ichigo cleared his throat and dropped his gaze from his tutor's face to his lap again. "It's just strange how I feel about you, because you're such a jerk."

"Ichigo I'm hurt." The smirk was back. "You call the man who took you bleeding into his home and tended to your wounds a 'jerk'?" Aizen took back his previous thoughts; it really was difficult not to laugh a little at the boy's flustered state.

"Sorry." Ichigo's gaze didn't shift from his denim clad lap. Aizen shifted his position on the bed so that he was facing the teenager, their legs almost touching.

"I'm just teasing you. You're too easy to get to." Ichigo scowled again, his embarrassment being replaced once more with annoyance.

"Okay… it's just, I don't know…" The redhead paused for a moment before the faint flicker of a smile crossed his face. "You're so old."

"I resent that." Aizen frowned without any real venom. "I'm not quite ready to be shipped off to the retirement home yet."

"Sorry. I just…" Ichigo didn't sound very sorry this time, the beginnings of a grin creeping in around his mouth. He raised his head and blinked at the sudden proximity of the older man.

"What?" He pressed, feeling sure that he was close to breaking the emotional barrier.

"I like you, okay!" The words came out in a breathless rush. "And I don't know how to deal with it. I'm not used to feeling like this." His brown irises shone renewed as though the weight of his confession had wiped the confusion from his eyes.

"That's understandable. You're still young." Still so young. Aizen felt a pang of conscience and wondered again if this was the right thing to do. Damn Shinji for talking him into this. When he had awoken that morning he was greeted with a pounding headache and a text message from his annoying friend;

'_I'm serious Sosuke; you can't just let this slip through your fingers. How long has it been since you felt anything but animosity towards anyone? Besides me of course ;)'_

He had groaned and dropped the phone back down on the nightstand. Shinji was one of a very few who were able to get inside his head, and much to Aizen's irritation he used this particular skill of his in a misguided attempt to steer the teacher towards making better life choices. If it wasn't for him Aizen doubted that he ever would've gotten to where he was now, but it didn't mean that he had to praise the annoying man. After all, it was all very well and good them talking the situation over, but the aim of this was to find a compromise, a solution. And the only way this was going was towards the beginning of a dangerous relationship.

"So… Umm." Ichigo broke into his thoughts, "What about you?"

"Hmm…?" Aizen hummed in curiosity, prompting Ichigo to ask him the question, perhaps one of the most important questions he'd ever been asked.

"What do you feel about me?" The teen's voice was more confident than before but still edged with apprehension, as though he didn't really want to know the answer.

"Well Kurosaki," Aizen ran a hand through his chestnut hair, smoothing it back from his face. "I do believe I 'like' you too."

Unlike the younger man, Aizen kept his gaze on Ichigo the entire time, dark brown eyes never leaving the raw ochre orbs. Silence reigned once again as both studied the others face, trying to make sense from the chaos of emotion which enveloped them. Ichigo's throat grew dry as he was pulled into the charismatic gaze of his tutor, and even if he'd wanted to he couldn't bring himself to pull away from the stare.

"What can we do…?" The silences punctuating the conversation were growing heavier, making the emotionally shot teenager weary. Ichigo dragged his gaze away.

"I don't know." His tutor reached over to touch Ichigo's face in an uncharacteristically gentle caress. "All I know is that I want you." Ichigo swallowed hard, his face burning up beneath the cool touch.

"That's pretty stupid." This time it was Ichigo's turn to smirk. "I'm your student. You'll lose your job."

"You're overage, so that's the worst that can happen." _Unless the silver fox finds out about you._ "It was pretty stupid to kiss you in the first place." Aizen ran the rough pad of his thumb over the redhead's full bottom lip, his voice low and heady. "And now I don't want to stop." They were close now, bodies almost touching, both painfully aware that all they had to do was lean forward and they would be pressed close against the other.

This time it was Ichigo who took the initiative, as if to make up for his blushing reluctance up till that point. He craned his neck, pressing his inexperienced lips against those of the older man. All Aizen could see was orange, and he smiled against those soft lips, the first true smile that he'd expressed in a long time. In that moment an unspoken decision was made as he let himself become absorbed in the moment; the fears and hostile indecisions that hung in the air were broken by that sweet kiss and somehow everything was at peace for the first time in his life. He let his eyes slip shut and ran his hand from where it rested on the teenagers chin round to caress the back of his neck, fingers twisting in bright hairs.

The temperature in the room seemed to increase and the warm atmosphere seeped into their bodies as they embraced. Aizen pushed gently against Ichigo's lips with his own, slowly encouraging them to part. Ichigo sighed into the kiss as a warm tongue ran along his bottom lip and he hesitantly reached out with his own. The sensation of their lips and tongues meeting was strange to Ichigo, but not in any way unpleasant. For an eighteen year old he was still quite inexperienced in such matters, his adolescent years spent in confusion over his sexuality. After all, the teenage boys famous for fighting and rough attitudes weren't really the type of people that you'd expect to be gay. He had experienced clumsy fumbles with both males and females, but never anything like this.

His eyes fluttered shut as he allowed himself to sink into the soft embrace, lips parted and tongues dancing as the kiss intensified, pleasant heat building and swirling in the pit of his stomach as strong hands and fingers swept through his hair, caressed his neck and grasped his chin in a possessive gesture, tilting his head slightly to allow the more experienced man better access to his mouth.

For such a cold man, his tutor was warm, inside and out. Taking his time to explore the moist cavity, Ichigo realised that his mouth tasted different than before, sweet and smoky, like scented cigarettes.

"You smoke?" He asked, pulling back softly and furrowing his brows.

"So what if it do?" Aizen grinned slyly back at him.

"You shouldn't, it's bad for you." As the son of a doctor Ichigo was cautious of such habits, and had so far managed to avoid such pitfalls.

"I think I'm the one who's meant to be giving you lectures." Aizen laughed at the indignation on the young man's face. He smirked seductively as he leaned in close to Ichigo, "But I can think of worse things for me." The annoyance on his face was swiftly replaced by the frightened rabbit look that Aizen had become so fond of when there was a sharp rap on the bedroom door. Ichigo leapt up from the bed as though he had been stabbed as a sweet voice filtered through the wooden door.

"Ichi-nii? Lunch is ready." Yuzu pushed the door open hesitantly, afraid that she had interrupted some important discussion. A slight look of confusion crossed her face as she stuck her head into the room to see her brother standing poker straight, face flushed and mouth gaping like a disordered fish while the man who had introduced himself as Ichigo's tutor sat quite calmly upon her brother's bed, looking at least a little amused by some secret joke. "Is your teacher staying for lunch?" She directed the question at the two men and decided not to enquire into the strange look upon her brother's face, perhaps his teacher had brought some bad news and if this was the case she really didn't want to pry.

"No thank you, in fact I really must be going."Aizen glanced at his wristwatch as he answered her question in place of Ichigo, who seemed to have lost the ability to form a coherent sentence. Yuzu nodded and smiled at her brother,

"Well hurry down Ichi-nii, before it gets cold." She bowed her head slightly at Aizen as she left, "Nice to meet you Aizen-sensei."

"And you." He replied as he regarded her over the top of his glasses. Shutting the door behind her, she shivered a little. Something about the young, handsome tutor seemed off to her and something about his presence got under her skin. Perhaps it was how startled he made her brother look; because if there was one way she had never seen her brother act it was as flustered as he seemed with that man. Shaking her head she went downstairs to join her family, passing on the message that Ichigo was just finishing up with his teacher.

"Really Ichigo could you act more suspicious?" Aizen laughed as Ichigo flopped back down upon the bed.

"Shut up." He scowled, letting out a deep breath that he didn't even realise he had been holding. "I didn't expect Yuzu to come in just then." His teacher smiled softly as he teased him,

"Something tells me you won't be telling your family about this then?" Ichigo raised his eyebrows.

"Do you want me to?" He asked, shooting a weary look of humour and disbelief at the other man.

"I don't think that would be a good idea for either of us." Aizen's voice was as gentle as his smile, and Ichigo couldn't help but think that the soft light dancing in his dark brown eyes seemed somehow very sad.

"Yeah." He coughed to cover the embarrassment that had flared up one again as he realised that he was becoming lost every time he looked into those eyes.

"I really do have to go Ichigo." Aizen stood, straightening his expensive looking jacket, all business once again. "And I should leave you to your family."

"Yeah… okay." Ichigo cast his eyes down towards his lap, feeling suddenly awkward. Aizen smiled softly again, but this time it was for his own benefit, a gesture that was entirely involuntary and true. He was well aware of his ability to intimidate people, in fact he had relied upon it his whole life, but seeing the fiery redhead turn into a blushing schoolgirl before him was really rather (and this was a word he hadn't used since the day he met **her**) _adorable_.

He leaned over the blushing boy (no longer just his student, now his _lover?boyfriend?partner?) _and pressed himself against the boys temptingly soft lips. One knee pressed into the softness of the bedspread as he slipped his arms around the firm teenage body.

When they parted from their farewell embrace, Ichigo looked up, the reddish tinge fading from his cheeks as he softly murmured,

"So I guess I'll see you on Monday?"

Aizen swept back Ichigo's damp, messy fringe from his forehead, long fingers caressing his face as it cooled beneath his touch. Ichigo scowled slightly but made no move to shake off the cool hand of the older man.

"Will you be well enough to return then?"

"Yeah, this is nothing." His mouth peaked at the corners into a smirk so like the one that Aizen always wore.

"In that case I dread to imagine what you must consider as a serious injury." Aizen smirked right back and swooped in to smother that mirror image in another short, sweet kiss. "Goodbye Ichigo." He murmured, lips still pressed gently to his student's before pulling away and leaving Ichigo's body to protest the loss of the rising warmth.

"Oh hang on a sec." He stood too, fumbling in the drawer of his desk and emerging with a notepad from which he tore a scrap of paper and scribbled down a list of figures. "Here," he said as he thrust the scrap of paper into Aizen's hand. "It's my cell phone number." That pink tinge was back in his cheeks.

"You're adorable Kurosaki." He voiced his thoughts from earlier, not without a stab of thought in the back of his mind. _There, I admitted it._

"Shaddap." Ichigo scoffed before his eyes widened in surprise at the small white card which Aizen retrieved from his jacket pocket and pressed into his hand. A business card. He looked back up at his tutor.

"So the next time you get attacked by a bunch of lowlifes," he chuckled "you can contact me to come rescue you again."

"Oh shut up." Ichigo scowled. "But, thanks... For everything." His expression softened as he looked up at the man who had waltzed into his room and turned his day and his life upside down.

"Oh, and there's one more thing..." Aizen had turned to leave, but he looked back over his shoulder at his student and smirked one final smirk. He stooped to retrieve a brown leather bag that Ichigo had been too flustered to even notice him bring into the room. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a stapled stack of papers and dumped it down upon Ichigo's desk. "Here's the work you missed, I expect you to be caught up by Monday." Ichigo stared, slack jawed at the older man, before curling his lip in an expression that was meant to express both displeasure and mockery.

"Gee thanks. And here I thought you were just coming over to see me." He huffed good naturedly as he followed Aizen from the room and down the stairs. They passed the dining room, and Aizen nodded in at Isshin before being shooed to the door, Ichigo suddenly anxious to ensure that his tutor and his family did not interact any further. As he opened the door he made a point of speaking loudly,

"Goodbye Aizen-sensei. Thank you for bringing me my work." He pulled a face whilst trying to keep his voice as steady and normal as possible.

"Why, you're very welcome Ichigo-kun." Aizen's smile widened across his face as he mocked his self-conscious student. Then Ichigo saw that mischievous gleam in his eyes again and the next thing he knew he had been pulled into a rough kiss right there on the doorstep. Eyes wide in panic and embarrassment, he pushed the older man from him, feeling his face glow warm and bright as his fingers brushed Aizen's chest. Aizen winked as he said goodbye and walked off down the path, leaving Ichigo gaping at the doorway after him.

After a while, once he'd watched his teacher walk off down the street without so much as looking back, Ichigo shook his head and his senses back into place, shut the door and went back inside to join his family at the dinner table.

"What did he want?" Isshin quizzed him as he sat down and reached for a bowl of rice. "I hope you aren't falling behind with work already Ichigo?" he shook his finger at his son playfully.

"Oh no," Ichigo said, chewing on a large mouthful of rice. "He just wanted to catch me up on what I'd been missing."

"Oh good," Isshin took a large bite out of a bread roll and continued speaking, despite his voice being now muffled by food. "Ah know you'll do well Ichigo, you're so smart, just like Masaki…"

"Don't speak with your mouth full, goat face!" Karin punched her father in the ribs hard enough to make him attempt to inhale the bread and splutter.

"Karin! My beautiful daughter! There's no need for such violence!" Isshin coughed through his mouth-full of food.

"Guys! Please don't fight at the table!" Yuzu cried as she tried to separate father and daughter and prevent the inevitable food fight.

And sitting there amongst the hustle and bustle of the Kurosaki family dinner table, only Yuzu noticed the small, secret smile that lingered on her brothers lips throughout lunch, and for a long time afterwards.

* * *

_A/N: Hey guys! Here's the chapter you've all been waiting for... Sort of.  
_

_Sorry it's taken so long to update, and I'm also sorry that though its a fairly long chapter, not a lot happens... Haha woops :3_

_Also I just wanted to mention that I got a lot of comments from the last chapter guessing that the identity of the boy in the bar was Ulquiorra... It wasn't. I didn't intend for it to appear that way but I guess I accidently described the boy as looking like him. So if there's any confusion over that, sorry._

_That all been said, i'm going to shut up now. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and as always I'd love to hear your feedback.  
_


	8. I'll Keep You My Dirty Little Secret

_A/N: I suck. Just getting that out the way. This is the first update for this story in over a year and a half and I'm so very sorry. I had real trouble with this chapter and ended up focusing on my other fics instead. I actually had to re-read all the previous chapters to remind myself what had happened in the story thus far. I find Aizen tricky to write sometimes, not only because he's so different in my other on-going Bleach-universe fic but also because turning a high and mighty antagonist into a relatable protagonist is an awkward thing to do (this is also my first and only AU fic so still finding it tricky). And yes I'm dragging my feet on the smut (next chapter guys!) and I'm still not entirely happy with this chapter after re-writing it several times. But I'm pleased to announce that I'm back on track with the majority of the rest of the story planned out! And I will start to update regularly (which is sporadic for me at the best of times but there won't be a gap nearly as long as there has been). Thanks to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing, you make me feel guilty about neglecting this and it always makes me smile to read all the awesome feedback._

_I'll shut up now, enjoy!_

_K._

* * *

Ichigo flattened his hair against the top of his head before making a face in the mirror. Cursing at his reflection he twisted his unruly strands this way and that, before finally giving up and mussing back into its usual mess. He stood in front of the full length mirror attached rather precariously to his bedroom wall, frowning at his outfit. Usually he couldn't care less about how he looked but today… Well today he had a date.

With Sosuke Aizen.

Though he supposed it wasn't really a date _technically_, which was making deciding what to wear and how to part his hair even more stressful. It had been exactly one week and one day since Aizen dragged him bleeding from the street, and his injuries were healing well. He'd been back at college this week since he'd escaped the concerned clutches of his family, at least they'd let him go in for the majority of the three out of the four days he was supposed to attend. When not at classes he had spent most of his time indoors, helping out in the clinic and catching up on the work he'd missed. This was partly thanks to his father's reluctance to have him go out with his friends in the evenings but mainly due to his little sister's guilt trips. But now it was Friday night once again, and Ichigo Kurosaki was going to dinner with his English tutor.

As far as his (what could he call it?) _relationship _with Aizen was concerned, things were good. Better than good in fact. Ichigo was still firmly in the awkward stage where he was coming to terms with the fact that not only was this the first time he had engaged in anything remotely resembling a relationship, but also at the fact that it was with his teacher and that it was of a secret nature, which somehow made things even more exciting. How little time he'd spent with the man since he had visited him in his bedroom was frustrating but now the prospect of spending an entire evening alone with him both excited and terrified Ichigo.

The week had passed quickly, too quickly for Ichigo's liking. It had been a week of secret meetings and stolen moments. He wasn't quite sure how the dynamic would change but to his relief it had been better for the most part. Having gotten some of the tension out of the way he felt more able to relax in class and concentrate more on his work rather than spend all his time wondering why he felt so strange in the presence of Aizen. This wasn't always the case though, sometimes Ichigo thought he would go crazy just from sitting in the classroom, watching him teach and lecture and scold. Watching the hands that had skimmed his skin as they bandaged his wounds and tangled in his hair write out notes on the blackboard had at points been verging on torturous, and as much as Ichigo had to admire the skill that Aizen had in making ordinary movements seem like pornography it was starting to get to him. The emotional tension may have faded somewhat but the sexual tension still hung heavy in the air, so much that Ichigo was surprised that they were the only ones who felt it. All of this only added to his nervous anticipation of the coming evening.

He knew that he wouldn't be so nervous if they were going out to see a film, or for dinner, or for some other cliché date night in some public place. But for obvious reasons it was not a good idea for them to be seen together in public, and for even more obvious reasons it was a very bad idea for Aizen to come over to the Kurosaki household without good reason. And so it had been decided (by the older man) that Ichigo would come to his flat, the scene of their first intimate encounter, remembrance of which still caused a fiery blush to spring up in Ichigo's cheeks.

Biting back the blushing memories, Ichigo made a face at himself in the mirror before glancing for the umpteenth time at the alarm clock that flashed its digital lights on his bedside table. It was almost time to go. His eyes rested upon his messenger bag which lay upon his desk. He wasn't sure how much to presume from tonight and so, just in case, he had shoved a change of clothes and a toothbrush into his bag along with his wallet and phone. His face flooded scarlet again as he thought about what that action might mean, for someone as inexperienced as him trying to work out the right things to say and do was torturous. For all he knew things could go horribly and he might have to leave earlier than planned, he'd heard plenty of nightmare date stories from his friends. But this wasn't an ordinary date, and the object of his affections was certainly as far from ordinary as he could be. He decided to take the items with him, just to be safe, and hope that Aizen did not find him too presumptuous.

Gulping, Ichigo made one final attempt to tame his unruly hair, frowning harder as he realised that the more he tried to neaten himself up, the messier he seemed to become. With one last scowl at himself in the mirror he grabbed his bag and left, saying goodbye to his family who were under the impression that he was going to visit Chad.

Aizen's flat was not too far from where he lived, a comfortable fifteen minute walk. The afternoon was just beginning to give way to a warm summer dusk. The air smelt clean and warm as he made his way through the town. It was quite quiet for a Friday; no spirits around at all, but then again it was still early. As he reached the neighbourhood where Aizen lived he instinctively glanced around for any of those thugs loitering around but saw none. It was then he remembered that he had never asked Aizen exactly what had happened when he scared them off; he had been a little preoccupied at the time but made a mental note to ask him about it later.

By the time he reached Aizen's flat to say that he had butterflies in his stomach would've been an understatement; in fact he thought that it felt like some kind of giant, clumsy prehistoric birds were crashing around in there. Steeling his courage he rang the buzzer and stood back momentarily to have a proper look at the place where his tutor lived. Save for the security door from the outside the block of flats looked like houses, clean and whitewashed in a neat little row. Having been inside and seen the size of the living room he supposed that Aizen had the entire ground floor to himself. Which was nice, but somehow he thought the domineering man would prefer living on the top floor.

The buzzer hummed and Aizen's silken voice came through the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi. It's Ichigo." He couldn't see the man but somehow Ichigo could tell that he was smirking on the other side of the intercom and he felt a scowl upon his face already. If nothing else tonight was going to give him a headache from frowning at the irritating man.

"Come in." It sounded like more of a command than request, something which made Ichigo's heart skip a beat. Another buzz and the security door unlocked. Ichigo opened it and stepped through into the hallway, surprisingly clean and white for a shared block of flats. Then again, if he was Aizen's neighbour he'd feel compelled keep the place neat and tidy. The teacher never raised his voice but the anger he had felt in his soft tone the day he had rescued Ichigo from the fight had been enough to reduce a grown man to a puddle.

Aizen's front door was ajar and he took that as an invitation to enter. Removing his shoes in the entrance hall he called out, trying and failing to mask the nervousness in his voice.

"Hello?"

Aizen appeared in the hallway wiping his hands on a dishcloth which he then flung over his shoulder. The sleeves of his white shirt were pushed up to his forearms to display arms surprisingly defined for someone who spent all day teaching. His tie was absent, the top buttons of his shirt undone to expose a v neck of pale skin dipping down a few inches from his collarbone. The tails of the shirt were neatly tucked into a pair of form fitting black trousers in a way that made Ichigo want to reach out and pull them free from the waistband. His glasses were pushed up on top of his head; pulling back all of his hair save for one particularly unruly strand which fell across his forehead. Ichigo found that this slightly dishevelled look suited Aizen. It was hardly a polar opposite of his usual composition, he doubted that the elegant man even owned a t-shirt or sweatshirt, but the slight ruffling of his business-like clothes took away his edge slightly. Their eyes met and he swallowed as he tore his gaze away, a slight tinge of pink returning to his cheeks as he knew he'd just been caught checking him out. Again.

"You're late." Aizen smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Dinner is ready already."

"I'm not late." Ichigo scowled at him, nervousness quickly being replaced by annoyance. Aizen's irritating smirk just grew wider as the scowl deepened and Ichigo remembered how strange and oddly exciting it felt to have the other man get under his skin in the way that he did. The two men stared each other down for a moment until Aizen made a gesture for Ichigo to follow him through to the kitchen.

Ichigo wasn't surprised to find Aizen's kitchen decorated in the same manner as his living room. It was all black and white; there was an occasional deviance of red or silver in there but aside from that the monochrome colour scheme remained. The floor was that same white laminate as the living room and looking at it made Ichigo wince as he remembered how much of his blood had been spilled on an identical looking floor in this flat.

Aizen regarded him curiously, watching how his eyes flicked over everything in the kitchen, taking it all in. Observation was a quality he admired in other people. He himself was acutely observant, looking over every detail of a room or a person and filing it away for later. It was a habit he had picked up quickly in his youth and now he was putting it to use as his eyes trailed over Ichigo's body. He noted the healing injuries, mostly gone save for the gash over his eyebrow, the nasty one which had needed stitches from his father. The swelling was gone from his face and only a ghost of a black eye remained. Looking at it still made anger swell in his chest, no matter how faded it had become. He had a feeling that even when it faded fully from Ichigo's body he would still see it there when he looked at him.

He distracted himself with further wanderings, eyes darting over Ichigo's more attractive features. He was dressed as usual in jeans, but these were tighter and less faded than the ones he usually wore. Beneath his light summer jacket he wore a dark fitted shirt with short sleeves that clung to his frame in a way that made it look tailored specifically for his body rather than just picked up off of a shelf. His eyes danced over the curves of his lips and he couldn't help but remember how good they felt, how soft and pliant they had been against his own. If not for the obvious awkwardness and uncertainty that showed in the boy's face he would have leant forward to capture them one more.

Aizen was staring at him again and Ichigo shifted uncomfortably beneath that gaze, feeling that nervousness creep back in. Aizen felt the corners of his mouth twitch as he watched the boy fidget, but forced himself to remember that he did not invite Ichigo over to make him uncomfortable. He was obviously inexperienced and slightly uncomfortable about the whole situation and right now he should be putting him at ease rather than making it worse. Besides, depending on how the evening went he would have plenty of opportunity to make him squirm later. A few unsavoury thoughts flashed through his mind and he felt something spark in his stomach, the old blood was still there beneath the surface and he knew exactly what his old self would have done to the boy right then and there in the kitchen. Cursing himself he squashed those thoughts down, for now was not the time to be tormented by such demons.

"Would you like a drink?" He distracted himself by slipping into the role of host, one which he prided himself upon playing excellently.

"Um, yeah sure." Ichigo let out a breath as though he was letting go of some tension that had been knotted in his chest and Aizen saw his shoulders relax a little. He must have been making the boy more uncomfortable that he had thought. '_Stupid'_ he chastised himself.

"Do you drink wine?"

"What kind?" It seemed like a stupid question to Ichigo but it was all he could think to say.

"Red." Aizen smirked, somehow the simple word sounded suggestive coming from his mouth.

"Yeah." Ichigo swallowed as he tried to think of something to say, his mind coming up blank.

Aizen uncorked a bottle with a practiced deftness and poured two glasses. He handed one to Ichigo as he gestured for him to take a seat at the white dining table which dominated the most part of the kitchen. Ichigo forced himself to relax as he sat down, taking a larger gulp than was entirely necessary from his wine glass, feeling the thick liquid burn its way down his throat.

They made small talk over dinner, Aizen asking about his injuries and enquiring as to how it was that he kept getting into fights until it became obvious that the redhead didn't want to talk about it any further. He thought about asking Aizen why the gang had been so scared of him but decided to wait until the closed off man had a few more glasses of wine. The talk had turned to Ichigo's family and Aizen had learned about each of the Kurosaki household members. He listened in wonder and slight disbelief to the various eccentricities of Ichigo's father and reflected about his own, brief meeting with the man at the door of the clinic. He had been friendly enough, a little too friendly for Aizen's liking. Most parents would have been at least a little put off by their child's tutor showing up at their front door, such things were not common practice once they reached the college years. But Aizen had barely even had time to explain that he had heard what had happened to Ichigo and had come to drop off some work before Isshin was ushering him up the stairs and directing him towards Ichigo's room. Strange indeed.

"What about you?" He was snapped from his thoughts by a question directed at him across his table.

"Hmm?" He understood what Ichigo was asking but made the questioning noise to allow himself a fraction more time to think the answer through. That was a tricky and painful question for him, even after all these years.

"Do you have any family?" Ichigo said hesitantly, starting to wonder if he shouldn't have asked.

"No, not anymore." The briefest hint of sadness crossed Aizen's face and Ichigo felt a small ache bloom inside of him. Aizen noticed his pained expression and smiled softly. "My parents died when I was young." Not the whole truth, far from it actually, but that was a story best kept locked away inside of him.

"I'm sorry."

Aizen waved away his apology, the mask of cool indifference back upon his face. The redhead sat in silence for a moment, twirling his fork nervously in his fingers.

"My mum died when I was just a kid." Ichigo bit his lip, his gaze focused on his plate as he spoke. "I know how it feels. Kinda." He corrected himself, realising that Aizen's loss had been much greater than his own.

"I'm sorry."

Aizen saw his own dismissive gesture reflected back at him and smiled as Ichigo looked up to meet his gaze once again.

"Still, I am." Aizen truly was. As much as he hated to talk about his own family he hated dragging up painful memories for Ichigo even more. From the sound of it Ichigo's family loved him dearly and he loved them in return; something that Aizen had never experienced even when he had family, at least not in any conventional sense. This had become a bit too heavy for dinner conversation anyway; a swift change of subject was in order.

"So how did you meet Abarai?" Aizen's voice cut through Ichigo's thoughts like ribbons. He looked up and frowned in confusion for a moment before realisation set in.

"You mean Renji?" He'd never heard anyone call Renji by his surname before. Aizen nodded, his wine glass halfway to his lips. "He was the year above me in junior high, but that didn't stop me from kicking his ass when he challenged me." Ichigo smiled a little at the memory and Aizen was surprised to see that the expression suited the boy even more than his ever present scowl. "I haven't been able to get rid of him since."

"The two of you seem close."

Ichigo blinked, he could've sworn there was a hint of jealousy in Aizen's voice and it set off a spark in the pit of his stomach. He took a quick drink from his wine glass to extinguish it.

"Yeah I suppose. We've gotten each other in and out of bad situations over the years but he's always been there." Aizen briefly and slightly cynically wondered what Ichigo's definition of a 'bad situation' was before silently reprimanding himself. He had inhabited an entirely different world from Ichigo when he was his age and sometimes he forgot that. "He's a good guy even if he is an idiot."

"No arguments there." An amused grin twitched at the corner of his mouth as he swirled the remnants of the red liquid in his glass.

"He likes you." There was a hint of humour in Ichigo's voice and Aizen raised an eyebrow at him.

"He likes irritating me you mean."

"Yeah that sounds like him." Ichigo smiled softly as he spoke and Aizen decided that he definitely liked that expression.

Draining the last of the wine from his glass, Aizen stood to the clear the dishes. Ichigo sat somewhat awkwardly in his chair after his hands were shooed away from helping. Aizen placed the dishes in the sink and gave them a quick rinse before abandoning them for later. As much as it irked him to leave even the smallest mess in his kitchen he had more important things to attend to. Turning round he leant back on the counter and fixed his intense gaze on the redhead seated at his dinner table. His orange hair shone in the fading light of the sunset coming through the kitchen window and even the cuts and bruises couldn't make him look any less attractive.

Ichigo looked up, seeing those piercing eyes fixed upon him once again and swallowed the lump that appeared in his throat. Aizen held out a hand and after staring at it for a moment Ichigo realised that he was gesturing for him to pass over his empty glass. He obliged, his cheeks blushing pink as their fingers touched ever so slightly. Aizen took the glass from him with a smirk and turned to refill both glasses from a bottle on the counter.

"What now?" It was supposed to sound casual but Ichigo's voice betrayed him with just the slightest waver.

"We could move to the living room? It's more comfortable than sitting at the table." Ichigo nodded before realising that the older man still had his back to him.

"Yeah sure." He muttered, cursing himself for acting so stupid. The bastard had evidently gotten under his skin more than he had anticipated. Aizen turned to hand him back his refilled glass and as Ichigo reached out a hand to take it he found his wrist caught in a firm grip. Chocolate eyes flicked upwards, regarding the other man suspiciously as he found himself gently pulled towards him by the wrist. Aizen leaned forward to press his lips against Ichigo's ever so slightly, feeling the redhead's breath hitch as their skin met. The kiss was short and gentle; it contained no demands but rather carried with it a soft reassurance. He felt Ichigo relax into the touch and it took all of his self-control to not to push it any further. Ichigo's eyes fluttered open as Aizen pulled back, suspicion replaced by a soft questioning look, as though he was still trying to figure the other out. The elder man simply smirked softly, giving his wrist a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

"Don't worry, I've cleaned up the blood."

Ichigo flushed scarlet as he took his wine glass by the stem. _'Ass.' _He cursed Aizen inside his head but decided to keep those thoughts to himself. For the time being anyway.

He followed Aizen across the hall into the living room. It looked much the same as he remembered it, minus the splashes of dark red upon the floor. The black and white colour scheme marked only by the colourful spines of books in the bookshelves which lined the wall, a veritable rainbow of literature spreading across an otherwise monochrome landscape. He found he quite liked it, it suited Aizen down to a tee and for a moment Ichigo wondered how exactly he was supposed to fit into this otherwise neatly organised and clinical world.

Aizen sat down at one end of one of the black leather couches and gestured for Ichigo to take a seat beside him. He did so only slightly uneasily, both men well aware that this was the same couch he had been sprawled upon the last time he was here, shirtless and bleeding. Ichigo took another sip from his wine glass to loosen his dry throat, noting somewhere in the back of his mind that he'd end up drunk before long if he kept this up.

Many hours and several glasses of wine later, Ichigo was feeling the effects of the alcohol quite profoundly. It wasn't that he was a stranger to drinking; despite being not yet of legal age his Friday nights usually consisted of having a few with his friends. But that was beers in the company of people he knew well, here he was unused to drinking wine and even less used to drinking to quell his nervousness. The problem was not only that he'd had more than a few, but that he was still recovering from his injuries and still had antibiotics kicking around in his system. Aizen had noted this earlier but let it pass, partly because with every drink he had Ichigo seemed to loosen up some more, becoming less shielded and nervous. The frown was still there but it had become softer, his jibes turned more teasing than angry. Not that Aizen was trying to get him drunk to get him into bed; it was more about the dropping of the guarded boy's defences which intrigued him, a quiet vulnerability which he had never seen in him before and which intrigued him greatly.

Darkness had long since fallen outside the window, the streetlights flickering on to guide weary travellers home. A quick glance at the clock told Aizen that it was later than he had thought. Time seemed to slip by at a different rate when the redhead was in the room, but then again the wine that he himself had consumed had probably contributed to that also. Ichigo seemed to notice this too. Tiredness pulled at his face, a combination of the alcohol and the fact that he hadn't slept very well the previous night in anticipation of what was to come. He yawned, his eyelids drooping despite his efforts to the contrary.

They had been talking for hours, the conversation stopping and starting at times. Aizen was surprised to find the little silences comfortable, a feeling that Ichigo seemed to share as his frowning and awkward stammering subsided. This particular silence seemed longer than the others though, and it wasn't until Aizen flicked his attention back to Ichigo that he realised the younger man was on the verge of falling asleep on the couch. He smirked at the boy who was too proud to admit that he was tired and slipped an arm around his shoulder. Ichigo fixed him with that familiar questioning look but allowed himself to be pulled closer to Aizen, resting his head on his shoulder as that arm lay comfortingly across his back. For several minutes they stayed that way in a gentle embrace upon the couch until the soft rising and falling of Ichigo's chest told Aizen that he was nearly asleep already. He shook his shoulders gently, pulling him back from sleep for just a few moments longer.

"I think it's time for bed." He smirked gently at the frown that furrowed Ichigo's brows as he tried to work out the sentiment contained in that sentence. On any other occasion there would have been heat behind the statement, but not tonight. No matter how badly he wanted it. He cupped Ichigo's face in his hands and was pleasantly surprised when he leaned into the kiss. As their lips met he had to steel himself to keep it soft and gentle, but could not resist deepening it, running his tongue along Ichigo's bottom lip to encourage him to open his mouth. He did so with little persuasion and Aizen felt him gasp slightly when their tongues met, sliding together ever so softly. It pained him to pull back, but he was amused to see Ichigo's reaction when he did so, a mixture of disappointment and arousal.

"You're drunk." He said by way of explanation. Ichigo shook his head.

"Mm not." It would have been much more convincing had he not been slurring his words. Aizen smirked as he stood, holding out a hand for Ichigo to take.

"Come on." Ichigo took his offered hand, too tired and frazzled from the kiss to argue.

Aizen led him through to the bedroom, another room decorated in the same black and white colour scheme. Unlike the rest of the house the floor was carpeted, but like the rest of the house it was white. The room was sparsely decorated, taken up for the most part by a large, comfortable looking bed with thick black pillows and white sheets to match the rest of the décor. He steered Ichigo to sit down upon the bed, his eyes heavy with sleep and alcohol. The redhead yawned and stretched and, after an initial questioning look at Aizen began unbuttoning his shirt. Aizen's hands ached to reach out and help him, to pull the cloth from his body and feel that smooth skin beneath his fingertips once more. But he resisted, busying himself with turning to close the curtains against the streetlights.

When he turned around Ichigo was shirtless and was sitting looking questioningly at him from the bed, wondering what was going to happen next. But Aizen did not intend to push any further. He had slept with enough intoxicated partners to know that it was rarely as good as when they were both fully alert, not to mention how much advantage he would be taking by perusing further activities with Ichigo now. He did not intend to have his first time with the boy when either of them were under the influence of alcohol. It suddenly occurred to him that for all he knew the boy was still a virgin. He had assumed that someone as attractive as Ichigo would have shed that title long ago, but from his guarded stoicism he wouldn't have been surprised if he had never let another person close enough to him for that honour.

Ichigo's brown eyes regarded him inquisitively and he seemed to understand. Aizen leant over him to capture his lips in another deep kiss, relishing the way the redhead moved his mouth against his own, feeling rather than hearing every little noise that he made in the dark of the night. As they parted he leant to rest his forehead against Ichigo's. The boy's amber eyes struggled to focus upon his own and he could see the fatigue in them.

He laid Ichigo down upon the bed and the boy preoccupied himself with pulling off his jeans. Aizen quickly shrugged off his own clothes and crawled in beside him, pulling the blankets over them both. Ichigo curled his body into him, resting his head upon the brunette's shoulder and Aizen slid an arm around his waist, pulling him close. The younger man was asleep in a matter of minutes and Aizen lay there in the dark feeling the rise and fall of his chest against his own. He closed his eyes, allowing his own fatigue and the soft sound of the redhead's breathing to lull him asleep. As he drifted he reflected that for the first time in a long time he felt completely at peace, and in the darkness a little voice inside his head wondered if he could possibly dare to hope that such a thing could last for him.


	9. Got A Bad Desire, Oh I'm On Fire

Aizen awoke late the next morning, late by his standards anyway, and when he opened his eyes was greeted by a sight that made his insides tighten ever so slightly. Ichigo's face lay mere inches from his own as he slept on next to him, his cheek resting on the edge of Aizen's pillow. He looked so peaceful in his sleep that Aizen was afraid to move for fear of rousing him, content to lie beside him and study his face, drinking in the moment as much as he could before the spell was broken. The redhead's lips were parted slightly as he took deep slow breaths; the air expelled from his lungs was warm as it gently brushed against Aizen's face, carrying with it the faint smell of red wine. The light of morning had long begun creeping in through the curtains that hung across the window and a few rays fell upon strands of his bold hair, making it shine brighter than before.

Tentatively, still afraid of waking him, he reached out a hand to gently brush Ichigo's cheek with his fingers. The skin was soft beneath the all but disappeared bruise and Aizen was surprised by how natural it felt, not just the gentleness of the touch but the very action of lying in bed watching the younger man sleep was unnervingly comfortable. It troubled him. So he broke it, sighing slightly as he pulled his hand away before sliding out of bed as carefully as he could. Ichigo stirred a little in his sleep but did not wake, settling for snuggling further into the duvet instead. Aizen smirked at the sweet innocence of the action, knowing that it was one that would not have be shown to him had the boy been awake.

Something scratched at him inside his head and he sighed as he dressed quietly. Part of him was tempted to wake the sleeping boy but decided to leave him be a while longer. Aizen was always an early riser and even though this hour was a little late for him to be awake it was probably still early for Ichigo for a Saturday. That aside, he was still recuperating from his injuries and a little extra rest certainly couldn't hurt.

He went through to the kitchen and brewed coffee as he stared distractedly out of the window. That little voice was still scratching at him inside of his head and he tried his best to ignore it. It never usually had anything more to say beyond a few taunts and occasional reprehensible thoughts but this morning it was being quite vocal. He squashed it down as best he could as a faint scowl crossed his face. There was nobody present so his mask was not quite as well applied as it usually was and anyone passing by would have thought they had done something to seriously wrong the man glaring distractedly out of the window.

He busied himself by doing the dishes that had been left in the sink the previous evening before taking his coffee mug and heading out to the communal back garden for a cigarette. He never smoked inside the flat, the smell lingered and clung to everything and while he did not necessarily mind the scent he did mind the associations of uncleanliness that came with it. Not to mention the way it stained the whites yellow. He reflected on that for a moment, he was so hesitant to blemish his surroundings yet did not care about discolouring his lungs. It would have been funny if it didn't say so much about him.

Stepping out into the garden he shielded his eyes against the morning sunlight. The back garden was small but meticulously kept, comprising of not much but a rectangular patch of grass bordered by flower beds which were getting close to the end of their season. A wooden bench framed by two garden tables sat at the cusp of the grass beside the back door of the hallway. Aizen placed his coffee down upon one of the tables as he fumbled with an expensive looking engraved lighter, the blue flame flickering slightly in the soft summer breeze. He alternated himself between sips of coffee and draws of his cigarette until he felt more settled, the scratching momentarily silenced.

When he was finished he did not linger long, for he knew that Ichigo could awake at any moment and would no doubt be perturbed to find himself left alone in the flat. He smiled a little at that thought, he did always look so adorable when he was anxious but Aizen had no desire to make him feel worse. As it turned out he need not have worried. Returning to the flat he found him curled up in bed where he had left him, the soft rising and falling of his chest indicating he was still sleeping soundly. Aizen shut the door quietly and went through to the living room to pass the time by continuing with a book he was in the middle of.

Half an hour later he was feeling restless. Somehow his concentration was less than usual due to the redheaded presence in his flat and it irritated him. Glancing at the clock he made the decision that Ichigo had slept long enough and moved through to wake him. As he pushed open the door Ichigo was already stirring, he must have been in a lighter sleep than he'd previously thought. Aizen walked over to the bed and leant over him as he opened his eyes.

For a moment Ichigo couldn't remember where he was, everything was white and this was neither his bedroom nor the clinic. Long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked sleepily to bring the world around him into focus. As Aizen hovered into his field of vision he relaxed momentarily upon recognising where he was before tensing up again, but for a different reason this time.

"How are you feeling today?" There was a hint of a smirk upon Aizen's lips and Ichigo frowned at him through a half awake haze before remembering what had happened the previous night. He sat up in bed, barely noticing the dull ache of his injuries anymore and stretched out his arms towards the ceiling.

"Sorry." He suddenly felt like he might have embarrassed himself the previous evening. "I guess I drink when I'm nervous."

"Do I make you nervous?" The smirk still hung upon Aizen's lips, his tone a mixture of heat and teasing amusement as he leant closer to the redhead. Ichigo swallowed hard, his mouth was suddenly dry and he knew it had nothing to do with dehydration.

"How long have you been up?" He asked suspiciously, suddenly worried that he had been allowed to sleep the day away while Aizen did more important things.

"Long enough." Ichigo's scowl deepened, he hated the vague avoidance method that Aizen employed, even over little things like this. It felt like he was seeing a projected image that was entirely different from the real thing.

His thoughts were cut off by a pair of lips smothering his mouth, leaving him very little room for rational thought as they moved against his own. Ichigo tasted a faint hint of smoke and the bitter tang of coffee. The temptation to push things further swelled in Aizen's stomach and it took a lot of his self-control to pull back. That chocolate brown gaze caught his own and regarded him curiously for a moment, as though Ichigo was trying to work out if Aizen was really there or not.

The brunette was pleasantly surprised when Ichigo's hands snaked around his neck, pulling him back in for another deep kiss. He found the sudden neediness in his embrace incredibly arousing and he felt his self-control begin to slip away as he scraped his teeth across Ichigo's bottom lip. Ichigo made a soft noise in the back of his throat and shuddered at the contact. Aizen bit down softly on his lip and invaded his mouth with gentle touches as Ichigo gasped into the kiss. The younger man met him eagerly, some of the awkwardness gone now as he pushed to give as good as he got. The taste of the redhead was intoxicating and Aizen was losing himself in his warmth, getting dangerously close to slipping under entirely. He pulled back and looked at Ichigo curiously, the question evident in his eyes. Ichigo just nodded. He was tired of his own awkwardness and the way that Aizen made him blush without even trying. He knew what he wanted now and wasn't going to let his own anxiety get in the way anymore.

Aizen smirked at the determination in the redhead's eyes, that willpower was part of what attracted him in the first place. However it didn't quite stop him from blushing when Aizen climbed onto the bed with him, straddling him and using his larger frame to press Ichigo down against the mattress. He leant into him, relishing the warmth of the lithe body beneath his own. Ichigo gasped into his mouth as he crushed their lips together, his hands moving to bare shoulders to rub circles on the tanned skin. Ichigo shivered beneath his touch and he almost wished that the redhead was wearing clothes just so he could tear them off.

Aizen hummed softly as he moved his mouth to press gentle kisses up and down the redhead's neck, working his way down to his collarbone as warm hands played across his back. Ichigo curled his fingers reflexively as Aizen dragged his teeth across the line of his collarbone. He shivered at the feel of blunt nails scraping his back through the thin cloth of his shirt and responded by biting down gently on his neck. Ichigo moaned softly beneath him, Aizen's ministrations making it increasingly difficult for him to think straight. He clawed gently at his back while his tutor ravished his neck, feeling the cloth of his shirt bunch up beneath his fingernails. He needed that shirt off now; he desperately wanted to touch his skin, to leave his mark upon it.

Aizen pulled back to help him when he felt slim fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. The cloth suddenly felt restrictive and he wanted it off as much as Ichigo did. Between them they made short work of it and Ichigo felt his breath hitch in his throat. Even his observation about his suspiciously overdeveloped arms had not prepared him for this. From the looks of Aizen's torso he wondered if he'd gotten confused and stumbled into a teaching job interview whilst looking for modelling work. He was perfect, not too overdeveloped but enough to make him look like he could certainly handle himself in a fight. There was scarcely a hint of fat on him, the leanness of arms certainly extended to the rest of him. Ichigo suddenly had to swallow around a lump in his throat. He ran his fingertips over curves of defined muscles and was surprised when Aizen made a low noise in the back of his throat. He took a hold of Ichigo's wandering hand and pressed his lips against his knuckles. The look of shock and arousal on the redhead's face was adorable and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.

He reached down to run fingers through soft orange strands, revelling in the way Ichigo's eyes slid shut at his touch. He swooped down to nip at the redhead's lips as his ran his hands over Ichigo's bare torso. Fingertips ghosted over his nipples and Ichigo gasped into his mouth at the sensations that sparked off across his skin. His boxers were uncomfortably snug now as Aizen wound him tighter and tighter, exploring his body with teasing caresses. It still felt like he was holding back with him, but right now Ichigo didn't really care. He just wanted more of that touch.

He felt Aizen's mouth latch onto his neck and tilted his head back into the sensation, breathing heavily. He couldn't help but cry out softly as Aizen gently pinched a raised bud, moaning and arching his back into the touch as he rolled it between his fingers. Reaching out blindly, he ran his fingertips down Aizen's chest until he reached his waistband, feeling the slight shudder that ran across the brunette's skin at the touch. His fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt and Aizen grit his teeth as Ichigo's fingers brushed his erection through the cloth. Suddenly he wanted his trousers off now. Leaning forward to press a crushing kiss to Ichigo's mouth, he stood up from the bed to divest himself of the rest of his clothing. Ichigo whined at the loss of contact, the sound catching in his throat as he saw Aizen undressing before him. His tutor shot him a smirk as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down his hips frustratingly slowly. Ichigo gawped at him, his mouth hanging slightly open like a fish, but he didn't have much time to take in the sight before the brunette was upon him once more. Kissing and biting and licking and touching until the redhead started to unravel beneath his hands.

His face flushed deep scarlet as he felt Aizen's hand palm his crotch through his boxers.

"You're adorable when you get all hot and bothered." Aizen breathed heavily as he leant his forehead on Ichigo's, his fingers working him slowly through the thin cloth.

"S-shut up." Ichigo managed to choke out as Aizen's fingers tightened around him. Aizen obliged by capturing him in a breathless kiss, the feel of his moans shooting to his crotch like lightning bolts. He slipped his fingers beneath Ichigo's boxers and gently eased them away, Ichigo lifting his hips to help him slide them from his body. He bit his lip to stifle a cry as thin fingers wrapped around his bare length and began to work him slowly up and down. Aizen pressed wet, hot kisses to his chest and flicked his tongue across the bud of his nipple. He had been taking it as slowly as he could but now he was at his limit.

"Have you done this before?" He murmured. Ichigo opened his eyes to meet his gaze and he swallowed, a little surprised at the uncharacteristically gentle treatment.

"Yes, well, not exactly." He winced, aware that he was stammering again. "Not like this." Aizen just smiled softly and kissed him on the forehead.

"I'll be careful." He murmured against his skin. Ichigo nodded, trying hard to form coherent thoughts through the fog of need and arousal that clouded his mind.

"I know."

Aizen sat back for a moment as he retrieved a small bottle from a drawer in the nightstand. Ichigo knew what it was and he blushed deeper beneath him, closing his eyes as he heard him pop open the cap. Aizen distracted him by pressing harsher kisses to his neck, biting gently as he teased the sensitive skin. He was getting a little rougher now despite still holding himself back, but he knew Ichigo could take it. The sounds that escaped his abused lips told Aizen that he enjoyed it just as much as he did. He lifted Ichigo's leg up to rest upon his shoulder, enjoying the fresh flush that coloured his face as he did. Being so open, so exposed before another person was both embarrassing and exciting to Ichigo and he wasn't quite sure how to react to it. Aizen wrapped slim fingers around his length as he began teasing him with slow strokes, determined to make this as comfortable as possible for him.

Aizen slid his other hand beneath the redhead, lightly pressing his prepared fingers between Ichigo's legs. He felt the redhead's breath hitch but he did not try to pull away. He slid one finger in as slowly as he dared, feeling Ichigo tense around him and gasp at the intrusion. He kept moving his hand along his erection as he waited for him to adjust, and once the sounds of discomfort had turned back to moans he gently eased in a second digit.

Ichigo swore breathlessly as he felt himself being slowly scissored open by long fingers that brushed up against something inside of him far too gently. His gasping cries rang in Aizen's ears. It was taking all the self-control he had as he forced himself to move slowly, but as he slid a third finger in and heard the strangled whine from the redhead he knew he couldn't hold out much longer. It was strange, he thought as he slowly moved his fingers inside of Ichigo, he was sure that he had never had this much trouble keeping control during sex, he had never wanted anyone so badly that he could not restrain himself. The sensation unnerved him, the heat burning within his chest made him breathe heavily as he pressed kisses against tanned skin.

He felt the taut muscles around his fingers ease as Ichigo relaxed into the intrusion. He curled his fingers experimentally and smirked as he saw the redhead's ochre eyes roll back in his head. Ichigo gasped out a strangled moan and he knew that he'd found the right spot. Ceasing in his ministrations for a moment he moved to cradle Ichigo's face in his hand, pressing their foreheads together as the redhead's eyes struggled to focus on his own. He fixed him with that questioning look and Ichigo nodded. Their lips collided and both men could practically taste the need in the other's mouth.

Ichigo made a soft noise as those fingers were removed from his insides, breath catching in his throat as he felt something thicker press against his entrance. Their eyes locked as Aizen began to push in slowly, drawing a sharp inhalation of breath from Ichigo that ended in a moan, of pain or pleasure he was not sure. Fully sheathed, he busiest himself by kissing every part of Ichigo he could reach, waiting for the redhead to become used to the intrusion. He was so tight and warm around him that it was almost unbearable not to move, but the fear of hurting the smaller man outweighed his imminent need, for the time being at least. Ichigo breathed heavily, the sensation of being so full was somewhere between discomfort and pleasure and once adjusted he found himself craving friction.

Aizen was surprised to find Ichigo's fingers curled around his cheek, the redhead looking at him pleadingly, his pupils blown and hungry. He understood the need in that gaze, and he began to move inside of him. Pulling out till only his tip was inside he snapped his hips forward and moaned softly. The redhead _writhed_ beneath him, his head thrown back against the pillow and his eyes sliding shut as he felt that bundle of nerves inside him explode. Aizen gauged his reaction and shifted slightly, angling himself just right to continue hitting that spot as he started up a rhythm. Ichigo groaned loudly on every thrust, the discomfort slowly fading as each hit of his prostate sent sparks shooting throughout his body.

Ichigo didn't even flinch as Aizen's body pushed his leg back further to allow him to thrust in deeper. The boy was more flexible than he looked. Aizen didn't think it was possible but he found himself getting even harder at that thought. He ran his hands across the lithe torso, fingertips rubbing teasingly across every inch of his skin. Ichigo moaned as he leaned into the touch, pleasure coiling in his stomach, sitting heavily at the base of his body and burning across his skin. Aizen pressed his lips to the inside of Ichigo's thigh, feeling the tremble of arousal run across the surface of his skin.

Aizen groaned softly despite himself as he moved, sure that nothing had ever felt so good before. Ichigo's body seemed to fit perfectly around his own, their skin meeting in perfect synchronicity, their breathing matching the same rhythm. Every roll of his hips brought forth fresh noises from the redhead's lips, each small sound only adding to his arousal, urging him on. He leant down; nipping at Ichigo's lips and swallowing each gasp and moan that vibrated along them. He pulled back to suck on the lobe of Ichigo's ear, nipping gently at the soft flesh before biting down roughly upon it, drawing a cry of surprised pleasure from the younger man as hot breath washed over his ear.

Ichigo's breathing became heavier, each gasp more frantic than the last. Aizen wrapped his fingers around him once more to stroke him through to his end. His entire body shuddered and tightened around him, his head thrown back against the pillow as he arched his back up off the bed. Aizen caught his lips and continued thrusting into him as Ichigo came, his body shaking as he cried out. Aizen grit his teeth as he heard Ichigo moan his name, the sight and sound of the redhead sent shivers up his spine. It was enough to push him fast towards his own end.

The last few thrusts came hard and fast, Ichigo crying out beneath him as he buried himself inside of his student for the final time. He pressed his forehead to Ichigo's, their breath mingling in the warm air. His orgasm rocketed through his body, burning through his veins, more intense than anything he had experienced before, and for the first time he found himself moaning his partners name as he came. Ichigo buried his hands in soft brown strands and groaned as he felt hot liquid inside of him but was too caught up in the burn of pleasure to find it uncomfortable. He felt Aizen tremble above him and was surprised that his body could produce such a delicate, fragile action. He slowly withdrew from Ichigo, watching the redhead wince at the sensation. He pressed one last kiss to abused lips as he moved from on top of him, rolling over to flop down on his back beside him.

Aizen closed his eyes as they lay together for a moment in silence, breathing heavily as each savoured the afterglow. He heard Ichigo's breathing even out and felt him shift beside him on the bed. Tentatively he opened his eyes to see the redhead leaning over him, those deep eyes regarding him with an odd expression on his face. He felt a small spark of worry in his stomach but it was instantly extinguished as Ichigo leant down to kiss him. He opened his mouth to meet the redhead's tongue, feeling the soft sound that reverberated through them both. It was soft and slow and somehow hot enough to pique his interest again. He briefly wondered how Ichigo had learned to kiss like that before deciding that he really didn't want to know. He didn't care, as long as he was the only one who got to take those lips. The little voice in his head told him that he was being ridiculously possessive over someone he barely knew, but he cursed it down and it promptly shut up. He ran his tongue along Ichigo's bottom lip as they parted, the redhead collapsing back down beside him. He rested his head upon Aizen's chest and they both lay there for a moment; catching their breath and feeling their bodies begin to relax in the afterglow.

He had begun to think that Ichigo had gone back to sleep before he spoke up, a hint of mild amusement evident in his voice.

"I think I need a shower."

"Me too." Aizen smirked at him again as he stood from the bed and extended his hand. "Come on." Ichigo's eyes widened momentarily at the implication but he gathered his thoughts and this time he didn't even blush. Just took the hand offered to him and followed the elder man through to the bathroom.

For someone usually so reserved he certainly caught on fast.

The shower was long, hot and heavy as they took the time to explore each other beneath the hot spray. Aizen could tell that Ichigo was too sore and frazzled to have sex again right away, but that didn't stop him from teasing his body relentlessly, not letting up until he was spilling himself over his hands again. Ichigo returned the favour as he ran his hands over the muscles of Aizen's body, inexperienced hands quickly getting the hang of the motions until he found himself throwing his head back against the tiles as he came hard against him. Twice already and Ichigo was barely out of bed. Aizen could see this becoming a dangerous habit.

They stayed in the shower a little while longer, finally using it for its intended purpose as they washed away the sweat and fluids from their bodies. Ichigo practically purred as Aizen rubbed shampoo through his hair, nails dragging pleasurably across his scalp as he did so. Aizen pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade and smirked against his skin at the bruises that were already forming upon his neck. He found that he liked it, as though he had staked a claim upon the boy that nobody else could touch. Knowing that it would seriously piss him off once he noticed just caused him to smile wider against his skin.

He could get used to this.

Ichigo took the thick white towel offered to him as they moved back through to the bedroom. They dried and dressed in silence, both hesitant to break the spell that hung in the air. Aizen smiled softly as he watched the redhead frantically towelling his messy orange hair, suddenly understanding why it was always so messy.

"Would you like a coffee?" From anyone else but Aizen it would've sounded like an awkward thing to say after such an intense experience, but coming from him it seemed like the most logical suggestion in the world.

"Sure." Ichigo smiled softly at him as he continued drying his hair and Aizen had to squash down the urge to go over to him again. He distracted himself by moving through to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee, letting the rich smell wash over him as he drummed his fingers softly on the work surface, turning recent events over in his mind. It was far too late to deny that Ichigo had gotten under his skin far more than he was even remotely comfortable with. But it was too late now and he would just deal with the consequences. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought that he could gladly deal with the consequences especially if they included getting to do that again.

Ichigo entered the kitchen and Aizen looked up to smile gently at him. His hair was still damp from the shower and his eyes shone gently in the daylight. He was about to bridge the gap between them but was abruptly cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone from where it sat on the kitchen counter. A glance at the caller ID told him that it was Shinji on the other end. He scowled at the screen and looked back up at Ichigo as he answered it. Ichigo shrugged softly at him and gestured that he was going through to the living room. Aizen nodded at him as he left and heard Shinji's exuberant voice ring in his ears.

"Soooo, how is everything going?" He knew Shinji didn't give a shit about how he was; he just wanted to know how things were going with Ichigo. He thrived on gossip; it was his form of nicotine. Aizen silently cursed the other man. His timing was always suspiciously and irritatingly spot on.

"Fine." He said dismissively and could picture the blonde pouting at his tone. "Can this wait?" Shinji paused for a moment.

"…He's there isn't he?"

"Shinji…" Aizen pressed his fingers to his temple. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Say no more Sosuke, I'll let you get back to what you were doing." He made no attempt to hide the glee in his voice and Aizen could practically feel the weight of the other man's grin through the phone. "Or should I say, _who_."

"Goodbye Shinji." He said curtly before hanging up. He could just picture the blonde right then, practically writhing on the floor in laughter at him. Bastard. He'd get him back for that last comment the next time he saw him. He poured two cups of coffee and moved through to the kitchen with them.

"Everything okay?" Ichigo's curiosity had been piqued by what he had heard of Aizen's side of the conversation. It had sounded serious.

"Yes." Aizen's expression softened as he handed Ichigo a cup of coffee and pressed a kiss to his damp hair. "Just a friend of mine who likes to irritate me." There was a soft smile on Ichigo's lips as he took a small sip, testing cautiously for the heat of the liquid this time. Aizen cocked his head at him, silently enquiring as to what he found so amusing.

"Sorry." The amused look on Ichigo's face told Aizen he was all but sorry. "I was just wondering what sort of person you'd be friends with." Aizen raised an eyebrow at him and Ichigo snorted. "In case you haven't noticed you're not exactly the most approachable person."

He had certainly got that one right.

"I've known him a long time." Longer than he was entirely comfortable with. Aizen walked over to glance out of the window seemingly absentmindedly, his steaming mug still in his hands.

He turned to look back at Ichigo and couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at his lips as he looked at him curled up on his couch as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

As he walked back over to settle down beside him Ichigo surprised him by leaning in with a short, sweet kiss. He tasted like coffee. As they parted those chocolate eyes watched him as though they could see right through him and the voice in his head told him that he wasn't nearly as perturbed by this as he should have been. And the funny thing was, he found that he didn't really mind.

Yes, he decided as he settled deeper into the couch, slipping his arm around the redhead curling up into his side, he could definitely get used to this.


	10. Addicted Cause Your Kiss Is The Drug

He took a step to bridge the distance between them, hooking long fingers in the belt loops of the younger man's jeans, pulling their bodies close together as his warm breath ghosted along the pink tinged cheeks of the redhead. Noses rubbed together and lips brushed lightly, gently teasing the delicate skin.

Strong hands gripped firmly at Ichigo's slim waist and spun him, so that he suddenly felt his back pressed tight against a muscular chest. Equally strong arms looped round his waist, gripping him in a snug but comfortable embrace. Aizen tilted the head of the less experienced man to allow himself better access to press lips against the sensitive skin of the teenager's neck. He felt Ichigo's breath catch in his throat as the boy gasped in response to the warm breath and sharp teeth nipping at his skin, a sensation that seemed to set his veins alight.

A group of giggling students ran past outside, engaged in some light-hearted sport. The piercing sounds of their carefree laughter cut effortlessly through the blinds which covered the partially open window of the classroom. Ichigo's eyes flew open as he was snapped back to his senses.

"Nngh." A gasp caught again in his throat as he swallowed a moan. "Not here." He tried to shake his head from side to side as his breath came in shorter gasps. "Someone could see." His voice expelled in an almost breathless whisper now.

"Kurosaki…" Aizen's silken voice whispered low and heady in his ear as he nuzzled at the redhead's neck. "In this place I am your _sensei_, remember?" He felt the boy shudder in arousal and anticipation as his strong fingers splayed across his chest. He nipped gently at the redhead's ear as he began to deftly unbutton Ichigo's light shirt, "So, be a good boy and obey me, or else I'll have to punish you..." He smiled against the boy's skin as he both heard and felt him moan anxiously. "Though I must admit I do enjoy that." One hand snuck inside Ichigo's unbuttoned shirt and brushed lightly over a raised nipple. Aizen smiled again as he felt the body in his arms stiffen and let his free hand creep slowly, teasingly towards the boy's crotch.

"Aah..!" Ichigo tried and failed to muffle his voice, suddenly acutely aware of the breeze creeping through the window covered only by the fabric blinds moving slightly in the soft autumn breeze. He caught Aizen's creeping hand with one of his own and squeezed it tightly as he felt soft lips brush against his neck. Ichigo's free hand reached up to tangle and tug in the silky brown locks of his teacher. Aizen made a soft growling noise as Ichigo pulled gently on his hair and he instinctively ground his hips against Ichigo's firm backside. The fingers creeping inside the redhead's shirt teased a firm bud and twisted it just hard enough to set off a great number of hot sensations inside of the teenager, sparks darting across Ichigo's skin and setting him alight from the inside.

Their movement was hot and heavy, in time like they were both partners in a frantic dance. And the heat building in their stomachs was about to take over, like an animal instinct. The fire was consuming both of them as the sensations built, ready to flow over and burst like a dam with too much pressure behind it.

Suddenly a harsh clang of noise crashed into them, breaking the spell that had caught them within its fiery rhythm. It was the bell signalling 1.30pm, the end of the hour and a half designated lunch break for both students and staff. Aizen cursed quietly into Ichigo's ear even as his lips still pressed against the skin there, neither of them had realised just how time had flown. When the bell sounded Ichigo had made as to leap instinctively from the arms of his tutor, but Aizen had held him there, and he continued to do so as they both drew deep, calming breaths and tried to slow the beating of their hearts.

"Fuck…" Ichigo gasped as he caught his breath, throwing his head back against the strong shoulders of the older man. Aizen smiled at the thin layer of sweat which dampened the vibrant strands of Ichigo's hair. He withdrew his wandering hand from inside the boy's shirt as he gazed down at the dazzling caramel eyes only slightly fogged by lust which stared up at him.

"I think you should see me after class." Aizen murmured as he leant in to press lips against those of his student, and he felt Ichigo smirk against his own. For a second everything stopped. The frenzied passion of only moments before dissipated in that gentle kiss and for once, everything seemed peaceful…

Until the voices and noises of passing students in the corridor snapped both men back to their senses and they parted, Ichigo frantically doing up the buttons of his shirt as he rushed to his desk, dumping his bag on his lap in an attempt to disguise his state of arousal in front of the classmates that would at any second walk through the door and catch him flushed and fidgeting in his seat.

* * *

Ichigo sucked in a deep lungful of air as he let the pleasant breeze roll over him. It was the breath of a season caught somewhere between summer and autumn. The air was still warm but without the harsh edge of the summer heat that was somehow both enjoyable and sickening as it made everyone's motions a little heavier. The leaves would soon start to change to bear a resemblance to the colours of his hair and fall to accompany his footsteps with a satisfying crunching sound. Ichigo loved autumn.

It was a Friday afternoon, which meant that his prescribed classes finished early. However Friday had quickly become his favourite day of the week for another reason. That reason, the one with the chestnut brown hair and matching eyes, was not so lucky as to have an early finish on the Friday as some of his students did, and so Ichigo had grown accustomed to hanging around after class to wait until those of his tutor finished.

He passed these hours in different ways each week, today he had snuck off to the sports changing rooms of the college and taken a brief but well needed cold shower. After he had been so rudely interrupted in his flagrante with Aizen he had passed the two hour long lecture in a state which he felt was best described as 'hot and bothered', and this state of his was not merely due to the warmth of the day. Of course Aizen had been well aware of this, and had been milking it for all that he was worth, the sadist. Ichigo thought that if he'd had to sit there any longer, trying to concentrate on his work whilst his tutor sat at his desk brushing back his silky hair, shooting heavy lidded glances at Ichigo and (this was worst of all) biting at his lower lip when he knew that the redhead was watching… Well he thought that he might just have exploded.

It took him all of five minutes to shrug off Renji and the rest of his friends who seemed dead set on getting Ichigo to come along with them on one of their mad adventure ideas. He tried his best guilt trip on Ichigo, and he would perhaps have caved if he did not have such enticing unfinished business with his tutor.

Now he was on the roof, enjoying the way the gentle breeze was drying the dampened strands of his hair and gently caressing his inflamed skin. He leant casually on the safety railing, gazing out over the town as he waited for the clock to tick away the minutes until he could go meet with his lover.

_Lover._ Even now it seemed like a strange word to Ichigo. But he didn't know how else to describe him. Calling Aizen his _boyfriend_ seemed laughable for a number of reasons, not the least of these being the fact that the brunette was considerably older than him. That was such a flowery word anyway; it really didn't fit to the dynamics of their relationship. _Boyfriend_ suggested out in the open, lovey dovey things – like walking along the street holding hands or buying each other flowers – things that just didn't sit well with Ichigo's image of Aizen.

It had been nearly a month since Aizen had paid him that fateful visit in his bedroom, and ever since that day everything had turned on its head. Sure, the tutor-student dynamic hadn't changed much, in class they seemed to pass nothing but the usual animosity between each other, and Aizen would still kick his ass over poor work. But outside of classes Ichigo's world had been turned upside down.

It wasn't just meaningful glances and touches stolen in-between classes, not that Ichigo had any less appreciation for these things, but he was pretty sure that he'd spent more time at Aizen's flat than he had in his own house over the past few weeks. They'd even been on a few outings together; he supposed he should call them _dates_ even. Though never in Karakura itself – too dangerous. But whether they were going to the cinema or sitting eating takeaway pizza in his living room whilst arguing over Kafka, Ichigo really thought that it would be very difficult to feel happier than he did when he was by Aizen's side. Ichigo scowled to himself as he leant on the rickety barrier put in place to stop people from walking right off the edge of the roof - now he really was starting to sound like a soppy love-struck teenager.

'_But you know what?' _A voice in his head piped up as a secret smile crept in around the frown. _'I couldn't care less about how soppy it sounds.'_

And he was almost surprised to realise that he meant it.

"Ichigo..?" a familiar voice interrupted his musings, and he spun round with a face tinged pink from secret embarrassment at being caught thinking his secret thoughts.

"Urahara!" he scowled half-heartedly at the science teacher who had just appeared from nowhere as he had a bad habit of doing, standing on the roof as the gentle breeze ruffled his messy blonde strands. Just how long had he been standing there, watching Ichigo smile his secret smile to himself? "Don't sneak up on me like that, you creep." He made a face at his adopted uncle and gained a shining smile in return.

"Better be careful the wind doesn't change Ichigo," he teased, "We wouldn't want your pretty face to get stuck like that now would we?" He sidled up to the redhead and leant casually on the railings beside him.

"What do you want?" Ichigo asked, suddenly suspicious. Nothing much got past Urahara, he seemed to know everything about everyone and Ichigo prayed to God that his vast knowledge did not include that of his and Aizen's relationship.

"Nothing much, just felt like getting some air." The science teacher mused as he gazed out over the rooftops of the city. "It's a beautiful view up here."

"Yeah, I suppose." Ichigo shrugged. For a moment neither of them spoke and the only sounds were those floating up from the traffic far below. Urahara seemed in no rush to converse as he stood with his eyes shut, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face. When he finally did speak, Ichigo had nearly slipped back into thoughts of soft hair and strong arms and so the colour crept back into his face once again when Urahara turned to him and asked,

"What's been going on with you Ichigo?"

"What do you mean?" Ichigo's voice barely quivered as he retorted, however he couldn't quite bring himself to look directly into Urahara's eyes.

"Your Dad says you've scarcely been home ever since you got into that big fight last month… Are you in some sort of trouble?" The soft wind ruffled his blonde fringe and Ichigo couldn't help but notice how tired and drawn his face looked. When had Urahara gotten old? Like his Dad he'd always seemed to be one of those solid, sturdy guys that always had been and always would be, but recently he'd noticed the faint lines of age charting a course across their faces, worry lines Karin called them. He suddenly felt a stab of guilt for drawing more lines upon the pale man's face.

"It's nothing okay?" He shrugged it off, but knew that that wouldn't change the expression on the older man's face. "Nothing bad anyway." He added, as a small and genuine smile slipped across his face.

Urahara's eyes narrowed for a moment as he studied the boy that he had known ever since he was a baby with a shock of orange hair. There was something different about him now, but he never doubted that it wasn't something bad. Ichigo had never been a depressed or openly moody kind of kid but there had always been an edge to him; Urahara always thought that he had this deep vein of sorrow running beneath his skin through which pain had started flowing the day his mother died. He was friendly but didn't go out of his way to be sociable; he was smart but never tried to show off; he was strong and he would fight but only when he believed it was _right_... And he was always so brooding, so full of angst; he carried his mother's death and the responsibility for his sisters like a heavy weight upon his chest. But now he seemed lighter, like that weight had been lifted somewhat. His tanned skin and his hair seemed to glow brighter in the light from the sun that floated lazily by high above them in the sky, as though something was lighting him up from the inside.

And that was when he noticed the bruises. But instead of causing anger to bubble up in his stomach, as was his usual reaction to seeing Ichigo's battle wounds, quite a different emotion was evoked. His mouth remembered its usual smile and his eyes glittered as they regarded the marks peering over the neck of Ichigo's shirt collar.

"Well… I thought that perhaps you'd been off getting in fights again but from the looks of these bruises…" he jabbed at Ichigo's neck with one long finger, "I'd say you've been engaging in a different type of activity." Ichigo thought for a moment that Urahara's grin would split his face as he turned bright red and clapped a hand over the marks. He silently cursed and swore revenge upon his tutor for this humiliation. The blonde laughed loudly, throwing his head back to the open sky as he chortled, Ichigo's blush rising and spreading across his cheeks.

"S-Shut up!" He stammered, more out of embarrassment than anger as he gave the giggling man a soft punch on the shoulder. Once Urahara had calmed his laughter and the flush began to drain from Ichigo's face, the blonde spoke again, and this time the worry lines on his face seemed less pronounced, his features softer and more relaxed in the glow of the sunlight.

"Thank goodness…" he sighed as the tension visibly lifted from his shoulders. "I feel better knowing exactly what kind of trouble you're in."

"What makes you think it's trouble?" Ichigo raised a slightly confused eyebrow at his father's closest friend.

"Take it from me Ichi, girls are always trouble." The blonde winked and Ichigo couldn't help but imagine the look on his face if he knew that not only was Ichigo dating a man, that that man happened to be Sosuke Aizen.

"Not all girls are like your wife." Ichigo teased as he pulled a cat hair from Urahara's shoulder. Yoruichi was a firecracker of a woman, as eccentric and unpredictable and passionate as anyone he had ever met (except perhaps her husband). She collected cats of all things, and it seemed that her collection had grown every time Ichigo visited their house.

"You've got that right." A different kind of smile graced the blonde's face at that thought and Ichigo couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Yeah well, like I said, it's nothing bad." He hoped Urahara would drop the subject, because if there was one thing he was good at (though he somehow seemed to be good at _everything_) it was reading people. And for the amount of time that they had known each other Ichigo was practically an open book to him.

"Well that's good, that's great actually." He beamed with such genuine warmth that Ichigo immediately felt guilty at keeping the full truth from him.

"Thanks." But the secret was not his to tell, he would not be the one to suffer the consequences if their relationship was discovered and he would make sure that Aizen didn't have to go through that.

"As long as you're happy…" He paused. "Are you Ichigo? Are you happy?" Urahara was all seriousness again, leaning on the barrier as he pierced Ichigo with his grey gaze.

"Yeah…" Ichigo was almost surprised at the admission. "You know, I am. I really am." He smiled softly and Urahara responded in kind, thinking that perhaps the redhead's weight had not been lifted but rather he had found someone to help him carry it. Birds circled high above them, calling out to each other across the vastness of the sky as they chatted. Urahara was immediately frustrated at the lack of information imparted to him about the nature of who he supposed to be Ichigo's girlfriend, but it was pleasant nonetheless. The afternoon began to wear in, the minutes ticking away until the end of the college day. As the final bell chimed the two men walked back down together, Ichigo humouring the mad scientist for a little while longer until he made his excuses and left, trying not to let his back communicate too much information to Urahara, and making sure his footsteps didn't sound too fast as he headed in the direction of the English department.

Approaching Aizen's classroom he did a quick sweep of the corridor and a quick glance backward over his shoulder just in case his adopted uncle had decided to follow him to satisfy his ever present curiosity. The coast seemed clear, of course since it was now after hours the majority of the students had left, those staying behind would be either studying in the library or out engaging in various exhausting sporting activities beneath the glare of the sun. But as he drew to a halt behind the door, he swore he could sense somebody else in the classroom. His perceptiveness often seemed a little freaky to others, he supposed it was all tied in with his ability to see ghosts and whatnot. When he concentrated really hard he could often tune in completely with his surroundings and feel out the presence of others, be they ghosts or humans. And right now he felt something strange brushing at his senses, something from inside the classroom where Aizen should be finishing up his notes and work for the day.

Taking care not to be seen from inside the room, Ichigo approached the door which had been left slightly ajar from the last departing student and peered through the small gap. Luckily his viewpoint allowed him a clear sight of the front of the classroom and his teacher's desk.

What he saw almost took his breath away.

Aizen was sat at his desk, straight backed as always; taking down some important notes with what Ichigo knew would be fine notation as usual. Rays of sunlight threw themselves through the blinds and highlighted sections of his hair, falling across his slender fingers as they wrote. His silver framed glasses glinted in the light as they framed sharp eyes with soft irises. But breath-taking though the sight of him was, it was not what had caused Ichigo a shock.

Leaning over the desk as though she was absorbed in whatever it was he was writing down was a little girl. Or to be more specific, a little ghost girl.

Barely older than nine or ten, she was dressed in what looked like an expensive but traditional Japanese kimono, painted in bright shades of red and rich gold. Her hair (which was an odd shade of brown, almost purple looking in the bright sunlight) was tied at either side of her neck in two stubby little pigtails, and her bangs fell down to frame her round face and big brown eyes, which Ichigo now realised were not looking at Aizen's papers, but at the tutor himself.

Ichigo was perplexed. Was Aizen being haunted? He obviously couldn't see her as he did not react to her presence at all, and Ichigo was sure that he had never seen this particular ghost around before, certainly not around Aizen. There was something else strange about her too, though it took Ichigo a moment to realise what it was. She was fading. Most ghosts that Ichigo saw took the form of normal human beings, sometimes with injuries or marks that suggested the reason for their demise, and sometimes without even having formed proper legs, instead choosing to float along like a puff of smoke. But they always looked quite solid, this little girl did not. Her body was practically translucent, as though her spirit was barely clinging to existence. As he peered through the crack in the doorway at the two of them, he was suddenly overcome with a great sadness. This poor little girl was fading out of existence, and for some reason she was gazing at Aizen as though he was the most important person in the world.

And he couldn't even see her.

For a moment all Ichigo wanted to do was step through the doorway and tell her it was going to be alright. But he couldn't. Aside from Urahara (who was practically a member of the family anyway) he had never told anybody except his father and sisters about the ghosts, and he certainly could not tell Aizen. Not so soon into their relationship. He was a rational man, and Ichigo was fairly certain he did not even believe in such things as life after death, never mind people that can communicate with ghosts. And even if by some miracle he did believe him, what then? He was tired of being the freaky kid in class.

But all that being said, she looked so sad, and no matter how tough he acted Ichigo could never turn his back on a child in need, especially not little girls who always reminded him of his little sisters. Perhaps if he could get her away from Aizen so that he could talk to her for even a second…

Then she looked up and saw him. And there was no denying the fact that he was staring right at her. Her brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before she realised that the scary looking man in the doorway was indeed looking right at her. Ichigo didn't even have time to reach or call out to her before she fled, disappearing from the classroom in a puff of fading smoke.

Aizen didn't even look up as Ichigo half stumbled into the classroom, quickly catching his footing and his breath so that his tutor didn't notice anything strange.

"Ready to go?" He murmured without missing a beat, not even glancing up from his papers for a second.

"Mmmhmm." Ichigo nodded. He adjusted his messenger bag and tried to act nonchalant as he shifted from foot to foot, waiting restlessly for his tutor to finish up, still tossing around in his mind the question of what he should do about that sad looking little ghost girl. Aizen looked up at the sound of his impatience and couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curling upwards a little. His young lover was leaning back on a desk as he stared distractedly out of the window, white teeth chewing on his bottom lip the same way he did when he was trying to work out the answer to a particularly tricky question in class.

"Come here." He commanded, grabbing Ichigo's distracted attention. He obeyed and as he approached the desk Aizen caught hold of the base of his shirt with slender fingers, pulling him closer down towards him to capture his mouth in a demanding kiss. Ichigo sighed softly as he leant his hands on the armrests of his chair, tempted to move to straddle the brunette but hoping to move their earlier altercation to somewhere rather more private before they picked up where they left off.

The kiss was slow and hot and when they broke apart Ichigo was left momentarily speechless, all thoughts of the little girl gone from his mind as Aizen's arm curled round his waist.

"Let's go." His teacher murmured, Ichigo nodded vacantly in reply.

"Yep."

As Aizen stood to start packing his unfinished notes away into his teaching bag his gaze flicked over the redhead fiddling with the buckles on his own bag and smiled. It was obvious that there was something on the young man's mind but he could also tell that he was reluctant to share it with him. Perhaps in time. Right now he would take what he could get, without putting any pressure on him for more, because this was a give and take situation and Aizen was not ready to let anyone into the dark recesses of his mind and his past, not even Ichigo. Perhaps in time. But for now he would take his hand and watch the blush that spread across his face when he pulled him in for a kiss in a secluded hallway. And he would take him home and they would lose themselves in each other.

He used to hope that he did not become so hopelessly lost in all that light that he wouldn't be able to find his way back. But now he did not fear it, in fact he wasn't quite sure if he ever wanted to return, content to remain lost in there as long as he was not alone. And as Ichigo squeezed his hand gently he had the strangest, most unfamiliar feeling that he wouldn't have to worry about that last part.


	11. It Grows When You Don't Wear Your Armour

Ichigo lay on his back upon his bed, distractedly twiddling a pen between his fingers. He had returned from Aizen's flat a half hour ago with the intention of spending some time with his increasingly suspicious family, as well as making a start on the coursework which was due the week after next. His plans had been thwarted on both accounts, first by a note that had been left for him by his absent family. They had gone to visit Urahara and Yoruichi for the evening, an unexpected but not unusual thing for them to do on a Friday night.

Ichigo had briefly considered joining them; it wasn't far for him to walk. Evenings spent at the shop which Urahara had half converted into a home (one of his many unfinished projects) and used occasionally to sell whatever the mood took him to sell were always interesting to say the least. But thinking back to their earlier conversation he decided against it. Urahara's interest in his relationship had been thoroughly piqued. The blonde loved a good mystery and he would not let up with his investigation until he discovered the truth behind Ichigo's situation.

He wasn't sure that he was ready for his family to know that he was seeing someone, but he was definitely sure that he wasn't ready for them to know the identity of said person. And he didn't think that he'd be able to put with an entire evening of Urahara's sharp, amused eyes upon him, and long fingers prodding at the bruises on his neck.

He tapped the lid of the pen against his lips and sighed softly. The second part of his evening plans was currently being ruined by his own distracted mind. Every time he tried to turn his attention towards his Murakami analysis his mind would wander off towards thoughts of chestnut brown strands and deep, dark eyes. His conscience berated him, he had less than a week left to finish this essay and he knew that Aizen wouldn't hesitate to kick his ass over late submissions even if they were sleeping together.

He cursed quietly as he turned over onto his front, burying his face in the pillow and groaning inaudibly. As he mediated with his face in his pillow he reflected upon the real reason that he couldn't get his tutor out of his mind this time.

It was the girl. The little ghost girl.

It wasn't just the shock that had come with discovering that Aizen was being haunted, nor was it the fact that she had left so suddenly, leaving him no time to attempt to communicate with her. It was the way she had looked. Most ghosts seemed so sad, so lost, but her eyes shone with something different, an emotion that Ichigo had recognised instantly. Love, pure innocent love that only children seemed to possess. And she was so small, so pale and fading. He'd never seen a ghost like that before. She had seemed barely there, as though it was taking all her energy just to materialise.

She had haunted Ichigo all evening, not physically, but her image was stuck in his mind. At first he had assumed that she had been a relative of Aizen's, a daughter or a younger sister, but after repeatedly running her image through his mind he decided that there was no resemblance there, in neither their mannerisms nor their appearance. Aizen's features were sharp and sleek, hers were soft and round. Aizen was tall and well built, she was short and thin. Where the brunette was carefully guarded, she let her emotions shine on her face. He was dark, she was light.

It just didn't make any sense. The questions had eaten away at him inside his mind all the time he had been with Aizen and they still preoccupied him now. One part of him suggested that the simplest thing to do would be to just ask him about her, while the other part knew that that was a very bad idea. It was too much to share, too weird, too soon. It could ruin everything that the two of them were so precariously building. He smiled softly to himself as his mind shifted towards the thought of what exactly it was that they were creating.

Their budding relationship was full of surprises, things new and alien to Ichigo. Like how the warmth of another's hand could provide such comfort, and that staying awake all night just talking and exploring each other's bodies could feel so exhilarating. Like Ichigo's surprise and amusement at Aizen's appearance the first morning he had awoken before the elder man; no glasses; messy hair; stubble; morning breath. He'd always imagined the well groomed man to be above such human shortcomings and seeing him like that was somehow exciting and strangely poignant.

It was the smallest hint of vulnerability, sharing yourself with another without fear.

Aizen, when viewed from an outsider's perspective, was indubitably a cold, hard, sarcastic kind of man, and even to Ichigo he seemed this way at times. (He was on the receiving end of his sarcasm nearly 24/7 now). And he had not expected that a change in their relationship would elicit much of a change in his attitude and behaviour, and he was right not to do so. But it was slowly becoming clear to the boy that there was something kind, something warm in the man. It was hidden beneath protective layers of bitterness and self-isolation, but it was there, like some long buried and forgotten treasure. Sometimes he would slip and Ichigo would catch him looking at him with an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes, like he was regarding some deeply precious object, but when caught in the act would deflect and hit back with a sarcastic comment or a swift capture of the lips, as though he was afraid to have the boy gaze beneath the surface into the murky waters of his soul.

He felt his face turning red just thinking about it and realised that he still hadn't gotten any work done. Growling softly he grudgingly pulled his face from his pillow, rolled off the bed and over to his desk, trying fruitlessly to put all thoughts of dark haired tutors and pale little girls out of his head.

An hour and a mere five pages of the English translation of _Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World _later and Ichigo had just about completely given up on getting any work done when he heard a soft clatter against his window. He paused in his façade of work, pricking up his ears as the sound came again. Frowning, he glanced at the clock. It was nearly 10pm. There was a soft spike in his stomach as the possibility that it was Aizen crossed his mind before immediately being rejected. Throwing gravel at Ichigo's window was definitely not his style.

He climbed back onto his bed to open the window and lean out, only to be hit in the forehead by a pebble. Swearing, he recoiled as he was greeted by the familiar laughter of Renji Abarai.

"That hurt! Asshole." He growled through clenched teeth at the laughing redheaded figure on the ground below. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I came to see you." Renji wiped tears of laughter from his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. "Wondered if you were gonna come out of exile to spend some time with your friends."

"I guessed that much." Ichigo frowned as he rubbed at the sore spot on his head. "I mean what are you doing throwing rocks at my window? I have a doorbell you know."

"Yeah right." Renji snorted as he leant against the trunk of a tree. "Like I'm going to risk running into your little sister again. I still have bruises from the last time."

"You are such a pansy." Ichigo smirked when Renji stuck his tongue out at him. "Don't worry, she's not in."

"Shut up. So you coming out?"

"It's nearly ten Renji." Ichigo sighed theatrically as he cocked his head at him.

"Yeah, and its Friday night and you've been holding out on me for weeks." He pouted. "C'mon, Ichi, don't make me beg."

As amusing as that sounded, Ichigo supposed that he wasn't going to get any more work done anyway. Not as distracted as he was. He had been neglecting his friends just as much as his family over the past few weeks and knew he should make it up to them too.

"Ugh, fine." He gave in. Renji practically beamed and Ichigo remembered one of the reasons they were friends. Simple things made the tattooed man so happy and it was hard not to be infected by his simple cheerfulness. "Gimme a sec."

Renji shot him a salute and grinned so wide that Ichigo couldn't help but smile back as he brought his head back in and shut the window behind him. Grabbing a thick hooded sweatshirt to protect against the cold of the autumn night, he made his way downstairs. He scrawled a quick note for his family explaining his whereabouts and left it upon the kitchen table before heading out. He was locking up the front door when he was swiftly joined by Renji and his shit eating grin.

"So what's the plan?" Ichigo wondered as to what they were going to do. The two redheads were well known for their run-ins with troublemakers and the two of them walking around the streets after dark was always asking for trouble.

"Everyone else is down at 'The Ninth'." Renji shrugged as they started walking.

'The Ninth' was their regular hangout spot, a café/bar where Hisagi worked evenings. The manager, Kensei, a stern man with white hair and several piercings, let them hang about there on the condition that they didn't cause any trouble. He'd never admit it but he had a soft spot for Hisagi and cut his friends a lot of slack. Better to have them in the bar than out on the street getting into trouble he always said.

"Right." He nodded. The bar would be crowded tonight, but it was better than walking the streets.

"So, Ichigo," the tone of Renji's voice was teasing, but edged with something different, "where you been lately?"

"Nowhere." Ichigo shot him a suspicious look from the corner of his eye and tried to keep his voice casual. "Just been busy."

"Uh-huh." He had expected Renji to push the issue and was gratefully surprised when he didn't. He was usually like a dog with a bone when it came to finding out details of other people's personal lives. "So, um, have you spoken to Rukia recently?"

Ah, so that was it.

"Not since last week, why?" He smirked and had to bite back a laugh at the look which crossed Renji's face. "You miss her?"

"No!" The tattooed man frowned at him and his tone turned sulky. He shoved his hands into his pockets and huffed. "Awh forget it."

"No, I'm sorry…" Ichigo sounded half teasing and half genuine. They walked in silence for a moment before he spoke up again. "She asked after you."

"Really?" That perked him up. "Did she say anything else?"

"Just that she's going to try and come visit soon."

"Oh." There was an uncharacteristically thoughtful pause from Renji. "That'd be good."

"Yeah." Ichigo smirked again as he nudged him with his elbow. It was way too much fun to tease the elder redhead. "Yeah it would."

"Shut up." Renji frowned again without any real venom as he nudged Ichigo back.

"She likes you, you know." Ichigo turned his head to catch Renji's surprised glance.

"No she doesn't." The painted lines that ran down to his brows furrowed in hopeful disbelief.

"No, she does." She'd never admit it, being just as much of a coward about such things as Renji was. And their fear both stemmed from the same source. "You're both just too scared of Byakuya to admit it."

"I'm not scared of him!" Renji scoffed unconvincingly.

"Oh yeah." Ichigo raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. "Then how come you haven't done anything about it?"

"I told you, she doesn't like me." He shrugged his shoulders. "Not that way anyway."

"You'll never know until you try." There was truth in that sentiment and they both knew it. Ichigo stuck his hands in his pockets against the cold air of the night as they walked, the two young men lapsing into a temporary silence as each was lost in their own thoughts about a certain girl.

Ichigo had known Rukia Kuchiki a long time, ever since he had run into her on the street; a pretentious, upper class girl with a suitcase in tow picking a fight with a group of thugs. He'd promptly been dragged into that situation, and after she had half carried him back to the clinic and tended to his wounds he learned about her personal situation.

Rukia came from a prestigious and strictly traditional Japanese family. Her whole life had been spent stifled beneath the cloak of the head of the family, her incredibly overprotective elder brother, Byakuya. He was a senior partner at Gotei Inc., a privately owned weapons manufacturing company. Running from her stifling home and school, Rukia had come to Karakura and, after selling Isshin and his daughters her sob story, had taken up a temporary residence in Ichigo's home, much to his annoyance.

Despite an initial friction the two of them had become close friends, and Renji had been in love with her from the moment they had first met. He had received a sandal to the face and an arrow to the heart, and hadn't stopped pining after her since. Her Kuchiki pride prevented her from admitting it, but Rukia too had a soft spot for Renji. He was wild and coarse and vibrant and so represented the complete opposite of everything she had ever known, the inverted image of her brother. He was her freedom, if only her pride would allow her to admit it.

Rukia's brother had tracked her down within a month. That had always been inevitable, with his connections there was no limit to his reach. There had been a confrontation between Ichigo and the elder Kuchiki which had turned from a vicious argument into a full-fledged fight, their fists foregone in favour of bokken. A weapon fitting of the stale traditionalism of the Kuchiki's and a lethal weapon in the well trained hands of Byakuya. Ichigo had been beaten down and dumped in the street, and he knew Urahara would never forgive either of them for the night he had found Ichigo lying there, semi-conscious in the rain.

In the end, after weeks of recuperation, training, determination and a little bit of backbone from Rukia, Ichigo had come out on top. Byakuya had given him a scar that would never fade, but he had won and the elder Kuchiki was bound to keep his promises. Rukia had been allowed to return to live in Karakura, finishing her education at an ordinary public school as she had always wanted. Over the past few years an uneasy truce had formed between the two men, but the mark on Ichigo's chest still throbbed a little whenever he was nearby.

She was gone now, back to the city, back to her family. The condition of her being allowed to stay in Karakura was that she return to attend a prestigious private university near her family home once she was finished with public school. She had done so with only a slight hint of animosity. The relationship between the Kuchiki siblings would perhaps always be shaky, but for now it was stronger than it had ever been. Ichigo and Rukia spoke about once a week on the phone and he was assured that so far she seemed to be enjoying herself being back in the city.

He smiled softly as he remembered the strange circumstances from which their friendship had grown. She had brought an entire new level of disarray and disorder to his already chaotic life but he did not regret a moment of it. He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not realise that Renji had started in on one of his long rambling stories until he was nearly at the end of it. Not that the elder redhead noticed, he too so wrapped up in his own tale.

They reached 'The Ninth' just as Renji finished telling his story, still not noticing that Ichigo had barely heard a word of it. As they stepped inside they immediately noticed Hisagi. He stood behind the bar arguing loudly with a short, green haired girl. Kensei and a blonde boy with violet eyes and a vacant expression stood nearby. The blonde was expressionlessly polishing a glass and looked as though he was paying no attention to whatever it was that Kensei was saying to him.

The gaggle of their friends was crowded around a nearby table. Grimmjow was involved in one sided flirtation with a nervous looking Orihime, seemingly unaware of the flicker of anger that crossed Ulquiorra's face every time he leant in closer to her. Nel and Nnoitra were curled up on the coach, his skeletal fingers buried in her long, green hair. Chad, Tatsuki and Ishida sat on a coach beside a comfortable looking armchair in which Starrk was slumped snoozing. Kira sat to Starrk's right, his pale face oddly pensive where it was visible beneath his fringe.

Hisagi paused in his argument to nod at the two redheads as they made their way to stand at the bar. The green haired girl took advantage of his momentary lapse to prod him sharply in the ribs in retaliation for whatever it was they had been arguing about.

"Ouch! Hey watch it Mashiro." Hisagi shot her a look that could kill a lesser person. She merely stuck out her tongue at him before dancing off to deliver a tray full of drinks to a table. "Goddammit." Hisagi muttered as he turned to talk to them. "I swear I don't know why Kensei hired her."

"Well he hired you didn't he?" Renji laughed at the scowl that Hisagi shot him.

"At least I can hold down a job." The brunette's glower softened as he made a face at his friend from across the bar. Renji snorted in response but dropped it, he could tell that this was an argument he was not going to win.

Hisagi relaxed his shoulders, reducing his defences in the wake of his argument with Mashiro. He should have gotten used to their clashes by now but somehow she knew just how to get under his skin and exploited it dreadfully. Kensei let her get away with murder and she was well aware how far she could push, and so of course she exploited that too.

"What can I get you?" He asked as he tapped his fingertips on the bar.

"I'll have a beer." Renji smirked as he leant his elbows on the countertop. Hisagi rolled his eyes at him and turned to the other redhead.

"Just a coffee for me thanks." Ichigo wasn't really in the mood to drink tonight and he was still planning on attempting to get some work done once he returned home. Hisagi nodded before turning away to fix their drinks.

"Now who's the pansy?" Renji teased him gently.

"Oh shut up." Ichigo sighed softly as he turned to rest his back against the bar. He caught Chad's eye and waved at his friends before leaning back, his elbows placed upon the counter.

Ichigo let his gaze wander around the busy room. All types of people frequented 'The Ninth', but in general it was a quiet, pleasant type of place. It was furnished in bright colours and comfortable (if a bit worn and ratty round the edges) armchairs and sofas. Soft music played through speakers in the corners of the room but not loudly enough to disturb any conversation. There were plenty of other bars in the area which catered to the heavy drinkers and the party animals, and he was sure that he'd get dragged to those places once he was old enough to legally be allowed entry. But here the atmosphere was laid back and casual. Not that there wasn't ever any trouble, but incidents of that sort were few and far between and that was why Ichigo liked it here. It was bad enough that he could barely walk down the street without getting into a fight; he had no desire to take up bar brawling either.

For a reason he could not quite pin down his wandering attention was caught by two men standing in the corner of the room. A tall, thin man with blonde hair cut to a razors edge was engaged in what looked like serious conversation with another, a well-dressed, dark skinned man with dark brown braided hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He wore a silver visor across his eyes and his clothing, a simple but elegant tailored suit minus the tie, gave him away as someone with expensive taste. Now here was a pair that definitely didn't fit in with this crowd.

But it wasn't the fact that they looked out of place which held his attention. It was because the minute his gaze had alighted upon them they had both turned to _stare _at him. He held the gaze for a moment, never one to back down to a challenging look, and fixed them with his best scowl. The blonde smirked almost predatorily and he shivered. The other didn't really seem to be looking at him at all, indeed it was hard to tell with those odd glasses on, but his expression made him nervous regardless. The small contact of their eyes was strange and unpleasant, it was different from the everyday stares of people looking at his hair, and it was different even than the hostile expressions of the thugs and the troublemakers who seemed constantly drawn to him. Despite his best efforts, it got under his skin and he was the one to break the gaze and turn away.

"Um, Shūhei?" He turned back to the bar as Hisagi sat their drinks down upon it. "Who are those men over there in the corner?" Hisagi glanced over at the two men, one of whom he knew well.

"Oh, well I don't know the blonde, but the other guy is Kaname Tōsen." Ichigo looked blank and Hisagi sighed. "He owns this place."

"Oh?" That was news to him. "I thought Kensei did." The white haired man glanced over at the mention of his name and frowned. He looked like he was going to come over but was distracted by a customer. Hisagi shook his head.

"No he just runs it, Tōsen's the owner." Renji put down some money for their drinks. As Hisagi turned to cash up Ichigo peeked back over his shoulder to see the two men again engaged in conversation, their body language blocking out everyone else present.

Hisagi returned with the change and leant his elbows on the countertop as he continued speaking. "He owns a bunch of bars and restaurants all over Tokyo. Rare for him to come down here though, this is one of the smaller places."

"Wow. He must be pretty rich then." Renji mused, sneaking a glance at the imposing looking man in the corner.

"Yeah. He's a big deal in the city I think." A strange, soft expression came over Hisagi's face as his gaze was drawn to the dark man in the corner. "Or at least he used to be."

Ichigo's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Used to be?"

Hisagi snapped his attention back to Ichigo. He looked like he was about to speak but was cut off by Mashiro approaching, another drinks order scribbled on her notepad and mischief glinting in her eyes. He shrugged and motioned that he had work to do. Ichigo nodded back at him.

As they lifted their drinks and made their way over to join their friends Ichigo could not resist sneaking another glance at the two men. The thin man looked up just as he looked over and their gaze met again. The blonde's eyes laughed at him and he felt his skin crawl. He shot him another scowl and looked away, his attention shifting back to his friends.

Pulling out a seat next to Ishida he sat down, smiling softly as he was greeted by the group. He took a sip of coffee and tried to shake off the feeling of sharp eyes upon him as he began to slip comfortably into the familiar conversation of his friends.

* * *

_A/N: Just a quick note to say I hope you're enjoying the new direction this fic has taken. I've got pretty much the rest of the story planned out but back at Uni now so updates will slow (sorry sorry). This chapter was originally much longer but I had to chop it down to keep the word count in line with the rest of the chaps. On that note the next chapter may be a bit shorter than usual because of this. _

_Hope it doesn't disappoint. As usual feedback would be lovely, everyone's been a bit quiet lately since the huuugggeee hiatus so I hope you're all still liking it. _

_Until next time,_

_K._


	12. And My Whole World Is Under Attack

Aizen was restless.

He was never restless, his mind was always switched on to something proactive, always doing and thinking and working something over. He never really stopped and found himself blasé and unoccupied to the point where he became restless. But here he was, sitting on his couch staring into space, the pile of marking he had been working through discarded to the side.

And as much as he hated to admit it he knew exactly where that sense of restlessness was stemming from. Its source, the redhead, usually spent Friday nights at his flat. The evening had become theirs through a weekly repetition of books and coffee and conversation usually punctuated by much more intimate activities. But this week the reprise had been broken. Ichigo had returned with him following college, but had left after a mere few hours of his company. It had come as a not entirely pleasant surprise to the brunette how this had sparked a soft aching in the pit of his stomach.

He drummed his fingers against the table, his mind wandering far from the comfortable boundaries of his work. He considered coffee but knew that he was already too awake to rest easy tonight. He tried to convince himself that his agitation could be blamed entirely on the coffee but knew that this was a lie. The far more disquieting truth was that he would not sleep well tonight due to the lack of a certain warm body. In his bed. In his arms. He considered a cigarette though initially he had decided against it. He felt only a small ache as he reflected upon the reason he had been cutting down on them lately. Ichigo was concerned for his health. And as fun as antagonising him was, he could not bring himself to make the redhead worry, even over such a small thing. But Ichigo was not here, and Aizen did not know when would be the next time he was. One could not hurt, and surely it would calm his restless mind.

He was jarred from his internal debate by the phone ringing on the table beside him. For a moment he hoped that it was Ichigo before quickly reprimanding himself for that wish. He was Sōsuke Aizen and needy was not a feeling that he included in his emotional vocabulary.

He picked up the phone. A glance at the screen told him that it was not Ichigo, a fact that pleased him somewhat. If it was not Ichigo he would not have to deal with these troubling emotions right now, something that he could most definitely do without. However the alternative being displayed to him upon the screen wasn't greatly pleasing either right now.

He pressed the call accept button and didn't even have time to speak before the all too familiar voice of Shinji Hikaro flooded his ear.

"He's very pretty."

"Excuse me?" Aizen's brows furrowed, his eyes were sharp.

"Your little boyfriend. He's very pretty." From his position in the corner of the bar Shinji glanced over to catch Ichigo thumping a feral looking blue haired boy across the back of the head. His lips curled in a smirk. "Fiery too. I can see why you like him."

"Have you taken up stalking again?" Aizen was not pleased and he let the emotion show in his voice. Shinji just smiled harder. The boy must have really gotten under his skin for Aizen to be acting so possessive towards him.

"No. He's at the bar."

"The bar?" This was news to Aizen. Ichigo had informed him that he had to go home to see his family and work on his essays and now he found that he was out at a bar instead. No-one was around and he had not bothered to apply his mask, so he scowled openly. His expression only darkened further when Shinji spoke again.

"The Ninth."

"What are you doing there?" His voice was steady, but inside he felt a small pang of something close to concern. He did not know that Ichigo frequented that place.

"What do you think?" There was only one reason Shinji would go there and they both knew what that was.

"He's in town?" If Aizen was perturbed by that fact it did not show in his voice.

"Just for tonight." A soft pause. "He called me earlier, said he wanted to speak."

"And?"

"And I think we should talk." This was beginning to sound worse the more Shinji said. Aizen could already feel the irritation rising in his chest.

"We're talking."

"In person." Shinji sounded serious now. Even worse.

"When?" Aizen conceded, his voice steady and without the edge of sharpness that he felt in his stomach.

"Tomorrow morning?" Shinji wasn't a morning person but he knew that Aizen was, and this was a conversation that even he would get out of bed for.

"Where?"

"I'll come over."

"No."

"No?"

"If Tōsen is here that means _he_ could be watching. I don't want you followed." Aizen wasn't taking any chances, not when his past was involved and particularly not when Ichigo was in the vicinity. There had been too much collateral damage in his life already and he had no desire to add more victims to his list of sins.

"Paranoid much?" Shinji teased gently, some of the seriousness gone from his voice.

"That so called paranoia is the reason you and I both continue to draw breath." Deep down both men knew that he was right, that his suspicion for the best. It had been born out of the terrible life he had lived and on many occasions had been the only reason they had both survived.

"Fair point. The usual place then?" Their standard meeting point was a small coffee shop tucked away in a corner of the town. It was nearly invisible to all but those who knew it was there, and not many people possessed that knowledge.

"Okay." Aizen let out a small breath that he was not fully aware of holding in. "Nine-thirty. Don't be late."

"Am I ever?" That teasing tone was back in Shinji's voice and it grated upon the brunette now more than usual.

"Goodbye Shinji." Aizen's lips were drawn to a thin line and he was glad that he was alone.

"See yah." The familiar drawl was almost cut off as Aizen hung up, eager to get back to the distracting thoughts which he had been so desperate to escape from earlier.

He placed the phone down on the table beside him as he sat back, contemplating this new turn of events. He sat there for a while as his mind ticked over, his book ignored and all nicotine based debates gone from his thoughts.

His mind was engaged again, the restlessness gone as he worked over the implications of what Shinji had told him, and what he was yet to tell him. The fact that it could wait till tomorrow told him that there was no immediate danger, Shinji may be a playful fool but he was sharp and no slouch when it came to things like this. The fact that Ichigo had been present in the same room as his two old accomplices worried him more than he was comfortable to admit, even to himself. The redhead was dangerously close to getting pulled into this, whatever it was, and Aizen would not allow any more innocents to get hurt because of him.

The hands of the clock ticked steadily onwards. He glanced up at it after a while and noticed that the time was getting on towards 11pm. A thought crossed his mind and he lifted his phone again. His long fingers flew over the keypad as he typed out a message.

In 'The Ninth', in the midst of a light hearted argument with Ishida, Ichigo's phone vibrated in his pocket. He felt the sensation against his leg and a small bolt of electricity shot through him. Laughing playfully at the irritated blue haired man, he fumbled round in his pocket to fish it out. His heart skipped a small beat when he saw a message flash up on his screen. It was from Aizen.

'_I thought you had work to do?'_

Not what he had expected. He frowned softly at the screen as he typed out a reply, tuning out the light-hearted, chaotic banter around him even as Renji attempted to poke him in the ribs.

'_What makes you think I'm not working?' _

The reply came quickly, quicker than he had expected and much quicker than was normal.

'_Difficult to mistake that hair. In a bar no less.'_

Ichigo raised his eyebrows in surprise as he cast a glance around the room. The bar was quite busy, it was a Friday night after all, but there was no sign of the brunette. Ichigo was sure that had he been present he would have sensed him by now anyway. He had become finely tuned to the elder man's presence over the past few weeks and a quick cast of his feelers around the room told him that Aizen was not there. His eyes were drawn to the corner and he saw that the two men he had noticed earlier were gone.

'_Do you have eyes everywhere?' _

His scowl deepened as he typed, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by his friends. He did not like the way that this conversation was going and the tone of Aizen's message both worried and irritated him. He placed his phone back into his pocket and tried to slip back into the light hearted conversation of his friends, but his thoughts were caught elsewhere, between strands of brown hair and in coffee coloured eyes.

When the reply came buzzing in his pocket he wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

'_I have enough.'_

Ichigo's confusion was replaced swiftly by guilt as he realised that it must have looked like he was blowing Aizen off when he had left earlier. To tell the elder man that he was going home to work and then be discovered in a bar with his friends made him feel like an unfaithful lover caught in the act. His thumbs danced in the air above the keypad as he tried to decide how to respond.

'_Sorry.'_

It was all he could say. Aizen was a complicated man and he was far from figuring him out, but he knew that it must have looked like he had lied to him and now it felt like he was in the wrong. His phone vibrated in his hand again and his attention flew back to the screen.

'_You have no reason to apologise to me.' _

Somehow that reply twisted the knife deeper into his gut. He was busy formulating a reply when his attention was rudely caught by the leering smirk of Grimmjow. The blue haired man had stood to head to the bar when he had noticed Ichigo fiddling with his phone. He never could resist an opportunity to mess with the redhead and he was not about to let this one pass.

"Hey Ichi," he clapped his large hands to the redhead shoulders as he stood behind him, "who are you so busy texting?"

"None of your damn business." Ichigo scowled as he swatted Grimmjow's hands away, quickly dimming the phone's screen so that his secret remained safe.

"Awwh c'mon." Grimmjow smirked predatorily, but it lacked any venom and Ichigo was not perturbed. "We're all just dying to know who has been monopolising your time lately."

"Like I said, it's none of your business." He muttered as he turned away from him. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and headed to the bar. The others said nothing, but kept a curious gaze upon Ichigo as he began typing.

'_Do you want me to come back to yours tonight?'_

The message lit up the screen of Aizen's phone, and his first instinct, more than anything, was to say yes. He wasn't quite rattled, but his conversation with Shinji had been less than calming. To have the redhead in his arms and in his bed right now would be nothing short of a wonderful stress relief. But he was too proud to admit that he needed anyone, least of all some adolescent punk who had somehow managed to crawl under his skin just as efficiently as he had crawled under his bed sheets.

He sent his message in reply.

'_No. Just get your work done.'_

Ichigo bit his lip. The curt reply confirmed his suspicions that Aizen was irritated with him and he wasn't quite sure what to say. Guilt wrestled with irritation in his stomach and he wasn't sure if he should be annoyed with himself or with his lover. His head was spinning and when he looked up he realised that he had completely lost the thread of the conversation.

Aizen threw his phone down upon the table. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. He immediately felt guilty for sending that message. It wasn't the harshest thing he had ever said, far from it, but he knew how sensitive Ichigo was to his moods and his words and he worried about how he would react to it. He could feel himself softening around the edges and cursed himself. Now was not the time to go soft, for what Shinji had told him had him worried, or at least as close to worried as he ever got. He knew exactly what he should say, how he should react to ensure the best possible outcome, but in his mind's eye he saw the hurt, rejected expression on the redhead's face and relented.

In the bar Ichigo's phone vibrated again. He fumbled with the keypad and as he read the message he felt his stomach settle. A small smile crept across his face as he read the words illuminated upon the screen, a softer follow up to the earlier message.

'_You can come over tomorrow afternoon if you like.'_

The others were preoccupied in conversation and no-one noticed the small smile that graced his face, but it burned in his chest.

'_Okay.'_

And with that they were done. No final words. No meaningless pleasantries. The same way it always was between the two of them. With the last message sent, the matter was resolved, for now at least. Tomorrow would be a different matter, for both men had their own demons to wrestle with. But for now they were connected through electronic signals and unspoken emotions. Aizen alone in his own cold, clinical space. Ichigo surrounded by friends, bright lights and warmth. In different atmospheres, in different places, the two men sat their phones down and smiled their soft smiles to themselves. And no-one but them knew the meaning contained in that small gesture.

With his fears settled Ichigo found it easier to slip back into the conversation of his friends. Being with them cheered him no matter what mood he was in and he relaxed in the easy company of both old and new friends. They chattered on through the night, and before he knew it the clock had ticked onwards to closing time. Kensei came over to shoo them out and they obliged with only a few teasing jibes, everyone knew better than to test the limits of Kensei's hospitality and patience. Hisagi finished cleaning up behind the bar and joined them as they left.

The group split outside of the bar, different clusters of people heading home in different directions. Ulquiorra shot Grimmjow a death glare when he made to slip his arm around Orihime in the faux kindness of offering to walk her home and Ichigo couldn't help but laugh when the blue haired man backed off. Nel and Nnoitra said their goodbyes and headed off in the same direction as the odd couple, Orihime and her pale skinned protector. Starrk, Chad and Tatsuki waved goodbye as they left to catch a bus, they lived further away than the rest, a little too far to walk in the middle of the night. Ishida declined to accompany anybody home as he headed off in an entirely different direction, leaving Ichigo to walk back in the direction of his home with Renji, Grimmjow, Kira and Hisagi.

The night was crisp, the cold edge of autumn was beginning to take hold and a small but sharp breeze blew across their faces, sending shivers across their skin as they walked. The streets illuminated with amber tints accentuated the colours of Ichigo's hair in the glare of the streetlights. He zipped up his sweatshirt and dug his hands into his pockets to warm them against the cold of the night.

Grimmjow and Renji were having a metaphorical pissing contest, batting a futile argument between them as they walked. Ichigo slowed his pace, falling back from them and allowing them to wander on ahead as they carried on with their banter. He fell into step with the other two boys as Hisagi carried on a one sided conversation with Kira about his evening shift. After walking with them for a while Ichigo couldn't help but notice the lack of input from the blonde. Kira could hardly be described as being hugely outgoing but tonight he had been much quieter than was usual, barely saying a word to anyone. Even now with an enthusiastic Hisagi speaking to him he seemed unresponsive, and the two of them were very close friends.

Kira's silence did not go unnoticed by the brunette either. He nudged his friend gently in the side and asked,

"What's up with you tonight?"

Ichigo saw the faintest hint of pain cross Kira's face as Hisagi's shoulder nudged against his own. He frowned softly as the blonde quickly slipped on a mask of indifference, the fakest of smiles quirking at the corners of his lips.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." Hisagi's tone was light but Ichigo could tell he was getting irritated by Kira's obvious lie. "You've barely said a word since we left."

"Or all night." Ichigo chipped in.

"It's nothing. Just not feeling well." Kira mumbled as he worried his lip between his teeth, refusing to meet either of their gazes.

"Uh-huh." Hisagi replied flatly. Neither of them was convinced.

Ichigo responded by reaching over and prodding Kira sharply where Hisagi had nudged him, at the place where his arm met his shoulder. This time he was unable to hide the pain that crossed his face and he hissed in a sharp intake of breath. A matching look of concern and anger flared on the faces of the two boys as Kira realised he had just given the game away. They stopped walking, standing their ground on the pavement to investigate this turn of events.

"What happened?" Hisagi's voice was laced with concern as he reached out to touch his shoulder gently.

"It's nothing." The blonde muttered sulkily as he rubbed at his arm. Hisagi's expression darkened as Kira turned from him and Ichigo could sense his anger rising. He moved to defuse the situation.

"Kira." Ichigo took a hold of his arm, gripping it gently but firmly enough that he could not pull away. He spoke softly, his voice attempting to calm both the blonde and Hisagi. "Let me see, my Dad's a doctor remember?"

The blonde said nothing but relented, turning his face away yet not protesting when Ichigo rolled his baggy black jacket up his arm. What he saw made his eyebrows rise in surprise and furrow in anger.

It was the type of injury that he was used to seeing upon the skin of Renji, Grimmjow or himself. Kira's pale arm was dark with abuse. Black and purple bruises from long fingers marked his skin. Little cuts and marks from fingernails circled the bruises and told Ichigo that someone had gripped him tightly and dug their nails into his pale skin. Kira flinched from him when Ichigo turned his ochre eyes towards him and he noticed something else. Reaching out hesitantly he brushed back the blonde fringe that always shielded the left side of his face and uncovered a fading blue and purple mark beneath his eye.

Ichigo's eyes flicked to Hisagi and he saw the sheer fury that ignited on his face. Kira always looked so pale and fragile, though he had hidden strength that he rarely showed. He was not the brawling type, when his friends went off getting into fights he was usually the one to carry them home in the aftermath. Not that he was a coward, far from it, but he chose his battles carefully and managed to avoid confrontation most of the time. But not this time. From the looks of it someone had grabbed him roughly and forcefully and knocked him around a little.

Ichigo felt the same anger rise in his throat, boiling in his insides. He wasn't that close with Kira, but he was a good person and a friend. Nobody hurt his friends and got away with it.

"Who did this?" Hisagi ground out the question from a jaw clenched in anger. Kira sighed softly as he composed himself, brushing his bangs back into place across his marked eye.

"It doesn't matter." He sounded so defeated, the tone in his voice just made Ichigo's anger rise.

"Of course it matters." The redhead couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. "Someone hurt you."

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"Kira!" Ichigo protested as the blonde wrenched his arm from his grip.

"Look will you just drop it!?" He snapped. Kira never snapped, never even raised his voice. "I'm not a child, I can look after myself. I don't need you two following me around like my protectors!"

"Well you're certainly acting like a child." Hisagi almost growled in irritation at his friend. Kira scowled back at him and opened his mouth to reply.

But what he was going to say never reached Ichigo's ears for his attention had been caught by a flurry of activity up ahead. Grimmjow and Renji had stopped, but not to wait for them to catch up. They had been confronted, and Ichigo's stomach flipped when he saw who by.

It was that gang, the ones with the faces made even more grotesque by the crooked noses caused by Ichigo's fists, the ones who had knocked over the little ghost girl's flowers, the ones whose names he could never remember. The ones who had nearly beaten him to a pulp the last time he had seen them but had been scared away by a schoolteacher.

Ichigo frowned, Kira and Hisagi had not noticed the new arrivals yet, still enveloped in their own little argument, but the rising noise levels coming from their two friends would alert them soon enough. It was still just an exchanging of verbal blows, a trading of insults, but Ichigo knew that it would quickly escalate. Renji and Grimmjow were not ones to back down from a confrontation and neither were the other guys, he knew that from experience. He sighed softly as he left the blonde and brunette arguing and began making his way over to what would soon become a battleground. He wasn't really in the mood to go home covered in fresh bruises, but there was six well-built young men surrounding his two friends and he would cover their backs no matter what happened.

Kira and Hisagi turned their heads as Ichigo walked away, breaking their argument as they too noticed the other altercation taking place. They followed closely behind him, and as the three got closer they began catching bits and pieces of insults and arguments.

Grimmjow was standing dangerously close to the leader now, the one with the particularly unpleasant face, the two facing each other down in a manner reminiscent of a powder keg. All they needed was one good spark to set the battle alight. The thug had his fists clenched in a way that suggested he would soon be putting them to good use upon his opponent. Ichigo could not see Grimmjow's face from where he stood, but he knew that he would be smiling that wolfish smirk that he wore as a taunt, a dare for the other to attempt to best him. But his opponent never even got the change to try. His attention was caught by orange hair and whatever insult he was about to throw at Grimmjow died in his throat as his sneering expression changed.

For a moment Grimmjow's smirk widened, thinking as he did that this thug was cowering in the face of his impressiveness, but he quickly realised that he was looking past him, over his shoulder at someone who had just arrived. The blue haired boy and Renji both turned as they realised that the gang's attention had just been caught by someone else, and neither was surprised to see who it was. Renji's grin widened, now that Ichigo was here this would be a fight worth having.

"You…" The thug grunted as Ichigo approached. The redhead frowned thunderously. He remembered their last encounter vividly, he'd had to have a tooth rebuilt thanks to this asshole and he wasn't about to forget that in a hurry. But the tone of his voice was strange, his usual cockiness replaced by a wary kind of caution.

"Me." Ichigo came to a halt in front of him as Grimmjow moved out of the way; watching the unfolding situation with a sharp curiosity, ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. He cracked his neck in a threatening manner and smiled softly. "I owe you for last time."

"Look… We don't want any trouble alright?" He shifted upon the spot, looking less like a threatening brute and more like a naughty child caught in the act. His friends stood silently behind him, all wearing similar expressions of guilt and fear.

"Yeah right." Renji snorted. "What, are you scared now that it's not just the two of us? Not that we need him," he gestured to Ichigo, "to beat the crap out of you lot." The thug flicked his eyes to Renji but did not address him. He snapped his gaze back to Ichigo, seemingly aware that he was treading on thin ice.

"We didn't know that you were involved with… _him_." The way he spoke, not even daring to speak Aizen's name, sent a shiver up Ichigo's spine as he realised why they were acting so coy."It was a mistake, alright? I told him we'd leave you alone and I ain't about to break a promise, not to him."

"Well then, you'd better get the hell out of here hadn't you?" Ichigo's expression darkened as he tried his hand at giving commands. "Don't let me see you around here again."

The other boy did not speak, simply nodding as he clenched his jaw tightly. He turned to his friends and they left, disappearing swiftly into the dark of the night as they made their retreat. Ichigo stood for a moment staring into their wake, not quite able to fully process what had just happened.

He had never really managed to confront Aizen about what had happened that day, every time he tried his lover found new and inventive ways to distract him from the subject, and up until now he had been happy to be distracted. But this was just… _weird _and he felt a cold weight settle in his stomach as he contemplated what had just happened.

'_Just who is he?'_

"…What the hell was that about!?"

Ichigo stiffened, so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had almost forgotten that he was not alone. Hesitantly he turned around to face his friends, and in any other situation he might have laughed at the looks on their faces. It was Grimmjow who had spoken and he looked like the wind had just been taken out of his sails. Even the usually stoic Kira wore that matching expression of confusion and outright shock, mouth slightly open, eyebrows raised with eyes wide beneath them.

Oh boy, now this was going to take some explaining.


	13. Something Real That's Behind The Mask

By the time Shinji arrived at the coffee shop Aizen was already there; sitting at a table alone, an empty coffee cup in front of him, his fingers twitching in that subtle, almost unnoticeable, nicotine-craving manner that only Shinji knew him well enough to pick up on. The blonde was not surprised to see him there; arriving early was one of Aizen's habits, one that he himself had never bothered to try to match. Shinji was a lolling latecomer, a habit that he had developed mainly as a means of irritating the brunette. But this morning he had curbed that habit, knowing that further irritating Aizen in the mood he was in today would not end well.

"Hey." Shinji grinned widely as he pulled out the seat across from him, flopping down into it and draping his arms across the back of the seat. Aizen didn't say anything, just regarded him with the cold, calculating look that was his default expression. Eyes narrowed, neither in contempt nor disgust but in a sharp kind of inquisitiveness. Lips drawn, not pressed tight together but sitting comfortably against each other. Brown hair smoothed back, save for that one unruly strand that always fell down between his eyes. His usual pair of sharp, silver framed glasses sat upon his nose and Shinji could not help but think back to remember how he looked without them. He used to wear contact lenses, back in what they had both come to think of as their past life, and the switch to glasses was one that had come along with his transition, his rebirth as Shinji liked to think of it as. It suited his college lecturer persona, but Shinji was not quite sure what had led to that particular change. He supposed it was part of his mission to change everything about himself, no matter how small. An outward, superficial change reflecting the desperate attempt to alter the things on the inside.

Shinji whistled softly as he gestured to the waitress, ordering a cup of coffee for himself and a refill for Aizen. They sat there in silence until the coffees arrived, they were not in a hurry nor were they running the risk of being overheard. There was only three other people in the café, a couple sitting a few tables over who looked so engrossed in each other that they barely registered the outside world and an older man sitting alone buried in a newspaper, hearing aids planted firmly in both ears. Neither seemed to pose any danger, but caution was in their blood and they would follow it as instinct.

When the coffee arrived Shinji took his time spooning sugar from the pot on the table into his drink; one, two, three, four spoonfuls of fine white granules along with a healthy splash of milk. Aizen's lip curled ever so slightly at his exaggerated motions and Shinji laughed, gesturing at him with the spoon.

"Glad to see that some things never change."

"Some things do." Aizen said simply, sipping sophisticatedly at his coffee, black and bitter, the polar opposite of Shinji's.

"Hmm." The blonde hummed noncommittally as he stirred his drink.

There was another soft silence as the waitress passed close to the table. Shinji finished fussing with his coffee and took a preliminary sip to test the taste. After a moment of deliberation he settled on adding one more sugar to the mix. His masterpiece complete, he sat back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head as he regarded Aizen.

He began to speak.

"He called me yesterday morning, asked to meet. I was surprised, of course." a mischievous smile quirked his lips, "He never did like me much."

"I can't imagine why." Aizen's tone didn't change, but the briefest raise of his eyebrows betrayed a humorous edge to the sarcasm in his words. Shinji made a face at him as he brought his arms back down to rest his elbows on the table, leaning in closer.

"Funny. Anyway, we spoke last night, briefly."

"At 'The Ninth'."

"Yep. Where I also saw…" He waved his hands, after their conversation last night he was reluctant to mention Ichigo again, particularly in this context.

"Don't." Aizen cut him off, his eyes darting swiftly about the almost empty room. He didn't know how Shinji knew who Ichigo was, but this was not the place to ask. He certainly didn't want his name mentioned in any conversation that strayed into dangerous territory.

"Right, sorry. Anyway that doesn't matter." Shinji paused to take a sip of his coffee, playing the spoon between long fingers as he spoke. "I knew from the start that something had him rattled, he didn't give much away of course, you know what he's like." Aizen knew, perhaps better than anyone. Reading people was his speciality.

"Why is he here?"

"Straight to the point, got it." Shinji tapped the spoon gently against the side of his cup. "He's worried."

"Because of _him_?"

Shinji nodded. Aizen felt a bubble of something rise and pop in his chest, but shook it off without letting anything show on his surface. His arms were folded, his body relaxed but its language defensive. His fresh coffee sat upon the table, untouched since the first sip.

"Why? What's happened?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Not quite what Aizen had been expecting to hear.

"Nothing at all." Shinji shook his head. "Not for weeks. No shipments or packages of any kind have exchanged hands under his mark, nor under any of his subsidiary companies for that matter."

"I see." Aizen spoke slowly, calculatingly. His expression did not change.

"Things have been steadier these past few years; he's been getting back on his feet ever since… ever since everything got screwed up. But this radio silence all of a sudden, it's odd. And it's not because of the cops and it's not down to any of his rivals getting involved. He's chosen to go under the radar now for some reason."

"He's done that before." _'I've done that before' _Aizen couldn't stop his prickly little inner voice from slipping that thought into his mind. He took a sip of his coffee to distract it while Shinji spoke.

"Yeah, but it's different this time, there's been nothing going in or out of the inner circle. I mean nothing. No packages, no communications, no bodies, nothing. From the sound of it I'd say he's gearing up for something. Something big. Like stockpiling before the outbreak of war."

'_Or the calm before a storm.'_ Aizen thought. He took a moment to process this information, pulling it apart and analysing it before putting it back together and filing it away in his mind. This could mean a thousand terrible things or nothing at all; there was no telling with him until it happened.

"Why didn't Kaname come to me with this information?"

"You know why." Shinji snorted. "He probably didn't even think you'd agree to meet with him."

Aizen did know why. There had been a lot of history between the two men, and though he could perhaps never call him a friend they had been close in a sense, as close as a master can be with his subordinate. But after everything that had happened there had been a great rift ripped between them that would never fully close. Tōsen's sense of justice meant he owed Aizen a great debt, and a heavy burden of guilt that could never fully be forgiven by either man still laid upon his shoulders.

"What do you think is going on?"

"I don't know." Shinji sighed softly as he lifted his cup to his lips. "But I'll tell you this Sōsuke, I don't like it one bit. Maybe you should think about moving on again."

"No." Aizen shook his head softly, the loose strand of hair swaying gently from side to side as he moved. "I've gotten settled here, things are going right for me for once. I finally feel… normal."

Shinji snorted again. They both knew that Aizen would never be just a normal everyday guy. But this attachment to a place was unusual for him, and Shinji had an inkling that he might just know where it was stemming from.

"Is this because of the kid?"

"Shinji…" The cautionary tone was back in Aizen's voice, the one that warned him not to push the subject any further.

"I'm being serious." Shinji put on his best serious face. "I know you're not one to let your emotions control you, but it has happened before and it nearly destroyed you." He paused to tap his fingernail against the lip of his cup. "I never want to see you go through that again."

"I'm fine." Aizen nearly let a small expression break his mask. Having someone care about him was different and difficult for him to process. He wasn't so sure if he liked the strange feelings it stirred in his stomach. "If anything happens I'll take care of it."

"I know. But still, maybe you should go away for a while, just in case."

"He knows where I am." Shinji blinked in surprise, a small look of worry flittering across his face.

"How do you know that?" He spoke in hushed tones now. "Has he been in contact with you?"

"No, but I'm sure he must know. I've not been hiding from him for a long time; there was never any reason to." Aizen shrugged softly before pausing for a moment, as though thinking something over. "He has no hold over me any longer."

"Perhaps not, but you know he'll exploit any leverage he can. If he sees something he can use against you, no matter how small, he'll jump on it like a ravenous dog." Shinji bit his lip as the waitress approached, but she passed by their table without so much as a glance at them. He sighed softly in defeat as he leant back in his chair. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you and this kid, but just be careful, okay? Don't get too attached to him. For his sake as well as your own."

"You know," Aizen's voice had a scolding edge to it as he spoke, "you are the one who convinced me that it was a good idea to get involved with him in the first place." Shinji laughed.

"Yeah, but, you should know better than to listen to me when it comes to relationships. You know I'm just a hopeless romantic at heart…" Aizen rolled his eyes at him. "Besides," Shinji continued, "that was before all this business started up again. I'm just telling you to be careful, that's all."

"Aren't I always?" Aizen smirked as he raised the coffee cup to his lips. But deep down he felt those small bubbles of worry building and bursting. He had not been very careful recently, particularly when it came to Ichigo and particularly when it came to getting attached to things. He had been taught never to become involved with something that you could not drop in an instant; a job; a home; a friend; a lover, everything was disposable and that was the philosophy by which he lived his life. He had only broken that rule once before, and as Shinji had so astutely pointed out, he had nearly destroyed himself in the process. But now, now he wasn't so sure about anything.

Shinji fixed him with a pointed stare.

"I still think you could use a holiday, go away for a bit, get some perspective, clear your head." His face cracked in his usual shit eating grin. "You know, I didn't want to be the one to say it but you look like you could use one."

"Shut up Shinji."

The blonde just smiled.

Aizen checked his watch, it was nearly 10am. Still early, Ichigo wouldn't be coming over for at least a few hours more, but he had things to take care of, particularly in the light of the conversation he had just had. There were people he should call; it was about time he got his ear to the ground again, just in case Tōsen's paranoia turned out to be something more. And perhaps he would give some serious thought to Shinji's vacation idea. It had been a long time since he had taken a break, and after this morning's revelations it might in fact be a good idea to get out of the town for a little while. He could even take Ichigo away with him if the redhead so desired. He supposed that wasn't really what Shinji had in mind when he told him to get away from things, but damn him. He was the one who had convinced him to give things with Ichigo a shot in the first place and now he was trying to warn him off. Shinji always did have his best intentions at heart but sometimes Aizen wished he'd just make his damn mind up and stick to one point of view.

But little did Aizen know that, at that moment, as much as Ichigo was on his mind, he was on Ichigo's, but not for the same reasons. For while the two men had been engaged in their serious conversations over dark dealings in the corner of a coffee shop they had both managed to miss the redheaded teen who had passed by the shop window while they brooded over possibilities.

But he had noticed them.

* * *

Ichigo leant against a wall, feeling the cool outlines of the bricks in the mortar against his back, pressing gently through the thin cloth of his shirt to create little block shaped patterns on the surface of his skin. His mind had stopped spinning now, but he had not quite gotten over the small shock that had sent his skin crawling when he saw his lover engaged in what seemed to be a serious conversation with the very same, creepy looking blonde he had caught staring at him in the bar the previous night. This had sent a flood of questions spiralling through Ichigo's mind. Who was this man? How did Aizen know him? And most importantly, had he actually sent him to spy on Ichigo last night? It was too coincidental, that he received that text from him after seeing the blonde haired man staring so intently at him. But he didn't really believe that Aizen would do such a thing. He was hardly the jealous, needy type that Ichigo supposed did these sorts of things. But then this brought him back to his previous question, who was this man, how did Aizen know him and why was he at the bar last night? Did he know that Kaname Tōsen character too? Most importantly, how could he be so involved with his life without Ichigo even knowing it?

And then there was the incident with the thugs. At first he had thought that he must have misunderstood what had happened that day outside Aizen's flat, he had assumed that he had taken one too many blows to the head and had gotten confused over what had taken place but last night had confirmed his memories of the incident. Karakura's toughest gang had been scared off by a teacher, and even now quivered in fear at the very thought of him. He had somehow managed to explain the situation away to his friends, though he could tell that they were not entirely convinced by his joking about the situation and suspicious over the swift departure he made to return home.

He sighed heavily as he let his head fall back against the bricks. '_Just what the hell is going on here?' _The more he thought it over the more it made his head spin and the more he realised that he really knew nothing at all about the man whose bed he had been sharing.

It was a little after 2pm now, and he was standing just around the corner from Aizen's flat. He had been loitering there for a while now, trying to build up the courage to go in and confront him. He wasn't even sure how to raise the subject with him. A man like Aizen would surely not respond well to hostilities, but Ichigo had to admit that he felt pretty damn hostile right now. Angry and confused and a little saddened by the odd sense of the feeling of being used. Was this how it felt to be betrayed? Or was he just reading too much into it? There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this that he had overlooked. He wanted to believe that.

'_Only one way to find out…'_

A few minutes later he was standing at Aizen's front door. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, holding the air in his chest for a moment, feeling the tension like a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. He exhaled heavily and felt the knot unravel ever so slightly. It was enough. He rang the buzzer.

Aizen's voice crackled a greeting over the intercom, the familiar smooth mocking tone sparked shivers across his skin and he felt the knot tighten up again. The door buzzed open in his hands, the harsh noise reverberating through his body.

Aizen opened the door to a scowling Ichigo, his face set coldly beneath shaggy orange hair. The look of defiance on his face was at once adorable and exciting, yet worrying. Aizen was far too hardened a man to be intimidated by such a look, even from someone twice Ichigo's size, but seeing the anger barely contained on his young lover's face still set off a small spark of concern in his stomach.

"We need to talk." Ichigo didn't quite meet his eyes as he spoke. He brushed past Aizen in the doorway, his blatant dismissal doing nothing to quench the apprehension in the elder's stomach. He pursed his lips in an unseen gesture of annoyance as he shut the door behind Ichigo and followed him through into the living room.

Ichigo was sitting on the sofa, hands on his knees, shoulders squared, face set, eyes cast downwards. Aizen raised an eyebrow as he sat down at the couch opposite, sensing that physical closeness was not something the young man wanted right now. Ichigo looked up as Aizen sat down and their eyes locked. He wasn't even sure how to begin, so many questions buzzing in his head like flies. He bit his lip as he tried to get his thoughts in order.

"How old are you?"

Not quite what Aizen had expected. But he had been waiting for this for a long time. The confrontation. The questioning. And he knew that this was only the beginning of what would become a dark, tangled web of confessions.

But that didn't mean that he was going to make it easy for him to get those answers.

"Does it matter?"

"No. I suppose not." Ichigo muttered as he regarded his fingernails. The hurt in his voice startled Aizen from his defensive position. He sighed softly.

"I'm twenty-nine."

Ichigo looked up. His eyes soft and shining.

"Oh."

There was silence for a while, the soft tapping of Ichigo's fingernails against each other. And the next time he spoke the reply came quickly.

"When's your birthday?"

"May 29th."

"Where were you born?"

"In Kobe, Kita-ku prefecture to be precise."

"Do you have any family?" Ichigo winced as soon as the question left his lips, remembering that this was a sensitive topic for both of them. "Any brothers or sisters I mean?"

"No."

"What about cousins? Uncles? Aunts? Grandparents? There must be somebody."

"Ichigo…"

"Who are you really?" He snapped. Angry words split like fluid from his lips as the dam overflowed. "You know so much about me but you won't ever talk about yourself. How am I meant to trust you when I don't even know you?"

"It's better that you don't know…" Aizen sighed softly but did not turn his gaze from that of the redhead.

"Right. Like it's better that I don't know about why that gang was so scared of you, or about that creepy blonde fucker."

Aizen blinked.

"Who?"

"You know who I mean. That blonde man, the one who was in the bar last night, the one you were with this morning."

"Oh."

"Who is he?"

"Remember when I told you I had a friend who likes to irritate me, and you wondered what sort of person I'd be friends with?"

"Yeah…"

"That was him."

"Oh." It was Ichigo's turn to pause in thought for a moment, considering this new information. His rage calmed a little, a soft expression pushing at the corners of his mouth. "Figures you'd be friends with a creepy looking bastard like him."

"He's not so bad once you get to know him." Aizen smirked softly in response. "Though admittedly, he can be a bit of a bastard."

"Did you tell him about me? Is that why he was staring at me in the bar?"

Aizen silently cursed Shinji's blatant lack of subtlety. He'd have to have words with that man.

"Yes, though I must admit I was unaware that he knew your appearance."

"How did he know that?"

"I don't know." Aizen shook his head, turning his palms upwards in a defeated gesture. "But as you so astutely put it, he is a 'creepy fucker' at times."

"So what was all that about this morning?" Ichigo's brow furrowed in interest, the anger fading away into curiousness. "It looked serious."

"It was."

"Well? What were you talking about?"

Aizen sighed softly. He removed his glasses and touched his fingertips to his brow.

"Ichigo…"

"You can't just dismiss me!" The rage returned swiftly, fists clenched as Ichigo shifted forward in his seat. Aizen's reply was calm and quiet, his eyes suddenly soft and tired without his silver frames.

"Look. I'm not used to all… this."

"To what?"

"To this… _closeness_. " Aizen bit the inside of his cheek. This was it, the tipping point. The point where he had to make a decision. Admit something he had never admitted to another living being before, or push Ichigo further away and risk losing him. "I'm not the kind of person who opens up to others."

"I don't need you to tell me everything; I just need something, something that's not so secret and superficial."

Aizen made his decision.

"It's more than just that. It was never like this before, it was just… physical." Ichigo twitched, surprising himself by how much he disliked the idea of Aizen being with someone else, even in the past. "I never really cared. About anyone. But you…"

For the first time ever Ichigo found Aizen at a loss for words. He could see in his face that it was truth, could hear it in his voice, because it was raw and because it was painful and because he looked so incredibly vulnerable in that moment. For the first time a part of the mask had eroded, crumbled to pieces in his hands, and he could finally see a fragment of the man beneath.

"There's one more thing." Ichigo spoke softly now, his anger blown away in the face of that admission. "I have to know what happened that day, when you saved me?"

Aizen swallowed hard, his glasses twirling beneath long fingers.

"I'm not a good person Ichigo, that's something which you need to know about me. I've done terrible things, things which I have been running from for a long time. Things which still resonate in the minds of people like them. Things which…" His voice almost cracked as he spoke, the words catching uncharacteristically in his throat, "would make me hate you if you knew them."

Ichigo lent across the coffee table and took Aizen's long fingered hands in his own, squeezing them gently. For a moment silence reigned and Aizen was the naughty child awaiting judgement before a superior.

"Okay."

Aizen looked up and was caught unaware in Ichigo's amber gaze.

"Okay?" He questioned softly, not daring to hope that his paltry admission would be accepted.

"I understand."

"Really?" He found that hard to believe. It was more than he deserved, to be so easily accepted, to be subjected to such little questioning.

"We all have secrets right?"

"Do you?" Aizen couldn't believe that there was anything which Ichigo had to keep from him, so pure and young and innocent he was. But certainly he knew that the teen's secrets could not match those of his own demons. He had gotten off so lightly that he did not dare to press Ichigo on the subject. Not now.

"Believe it or not I do." Ichigo huffed softly in response.

Aizen laughed, the expression crossing his face like an antidote to all the fear and anger that had been expelled. He took Ichigo's face in his hands and pressed his mouth to the teen's soft lips. The recoil he had feared from him did not happen and he smiled gently as they relaxed into the kiss. Slow and soft and warm, the opposite of everything he had feared would come forth in this conversation.

As they parted Ichigo blinked softly in the afternoon light, the sun creeping across his face like bright shadows across his lines and curves.

"There's one thing you're wrong about though." He said as he blinked sunlight from his eyes.

"What's that then?" The small smile still lingered on Aizen's face as he brushed vibrant strands back across Ichigo's forehead.

"You're not a bad person." Ichigo swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to articulate his feelings. "And I could never hate you. Whatever you did in the past doesn't matter. All that matters is the person you are now. Here. With me."

And that was it. The crux of the deepest secret of Aizen's deepest fear. Acceptance. He had almost half hoped that Ichigo would reject him, at least then he would be safe from his demons and Aizen would be able to let go, return to the cold miserable bastard, the mask which kept him safe. But now he was hopelessly caught within that trap one more.

But this time it would be different. He would not let things run the same course, like time endlessly repeating itself on an inevitable loop. A collision course that tore everything to pieces.

He made that silent promise to himself as he pulled Ichigo towards him, across the coffee table, into his lap. Mouths locked, bodies entwined, he swore that oath over and over in the darkness of his mind.

_Not this time. _


End file.
